


Take This Secret With Me to the Grave

by sorensen



Series: Secret Ascian Man [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Old Married Couple, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Post-Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal, Reincarnation, Secret Agent Ascian, Secret Identity, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2020-10-27 22:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20767790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorensen/pseuds/sorensen
Summary: A rare moment of peace sees Phoebe enjoying time in her rooms with her wayward husband, who just happens to also be part of a league of Ascians out to kill her.Luckily for Phoebe, the Ascians don't know that he's not actually tempered by Zodiark. Unfortunately for Phoebe when Alisaie bursts into her room, neither do the Scions.A retelling of Shadowbringers and beyond with a twist of 'But what if Emet-Selch wasn't tempered by Zodiark, and was just pretending to be?'





	1. The Source

**Author's Note:**

> Because why would I add to either of the two existing fics I have when I could just start another one?
> 
> Sidenote! I am going to ~adjust~ some parts of canon as Secret Ascian Man not being tempered alters things. Please don't mind my changes to canon, they're probably intentional. <3

They rarely get moments like the one they’re enjoying. Throughout her many lifetimes, Hades is not always present, not always available to appear by her side, and if only those had been the worst of them. No, the worst lives were the ones where they needed to fight the entire time, never getting a moment’s break. There was every likelihood that this life would become one of those, and Phoebe is soaking in as many of these stolen moments as she can before that time comes.

These are the lives she has doomed them to, and even if she’d had a chance to do it all over again, she knew she’d have to make the same choice.

He’d appeared in her room earlier in the day, exhausted. Phoebe had taken one look at him, before divesting him of his clothes, shedding her own, and pulling him into bed, for nothing more than an afternoon’s rest in the arms of the one they loved. She’d lured him to sleep with the sound of her heart, hands lightly scratching at his head and back, legs tangled. Eventually soothing herself to the feeling of him just  _ being  _ there, she’d slowly drifted off.

He’d woken her hours later to long slow kisses, unrushed.

The afternoon finds them relaxing in her room on the Source when Alisaie bursts in. They had gotten rather comfortable with each other during their time in Doma and on the Steppe, and it wouldn’t have been an issue if Hades wasn’t sitting next to her, idly flipping through a book.

“Phoebe, I was wondering if you - Phoebe, is that- is that who I think it is?” The young red mage breaks off mid-sentence, eyes focusing on the unexpected visitor.

“Shut the door, Alisaie,” Phoebe says, hand mid-way to the knife at her shin before she realizes who has burst in on them.

“But - who, uh, who is that?” Alisaie points at Hades, taking in the rather relaxed clothes he has on, eyes darting to the familiar purple robes of an Ascian nearby strewn across the floor of the room, Phoebe’s own intermixed between.

“Alisaie,  _ door _ ,” She says again, but her fellow Scion continues to stare at Hades lounging on the bed.

“For Hydaelyn’s sake Alisaie. Darling, the door, please?” Phoebe rolls her eyes, nudging the man next to her who had idly looked up at Alisaie’s initial entry. He hasn’t moved, but he also has not yet dismissed her entirely as a threat.

“Lazy,” he drawls, but he snaps his fingers firmly and quietly shutting the door behind the girl.

Phoebe attempts to gauge Alisaie’s mood, and fortunately, she looks more confused than angry. For all the twin was the quicker to jump to conclusions, she also trusts Phoebe more than nearly anyone else. “Alisaie, I know what this looks like-”

Alisaie shoots Phoebe an astonished look, cutting her off. “It looks like you’re in bed with an Ascian. An Ascian who, if my history books are correct, is also Solus zos Galvus, former Emperor of Garlemald.”

Phoebe huffs, turning to direct her attention from Alisaie to Hades. “I told you you should have swapped vessels, dear,” she says, glaring at the man next to her.

“And end up like Lahabrea? I’ll thank you not.” Hades responds, snapping his book shut but not really attempting to move. Phoebe ignores the pang that goes through her at the reminder of just how little sanity Lahabrea had left by the end and redoubles her glare toward her husband.

Alisaie’s eyes are now furiously looking between the both of them, impatient at the lack of an explanation. “Phoebe!”

“Right. Sorry. Alisaie, why don’t you have a seat.”

“Not until you explain to me why you are  _ in bed with an Ascian! _ ” She’s now frantically pointing at the man next to her, as if perhaps Phoebe had just failed to notice who she is sitting with.

“Well, that’s rather an exaggeration. We are both fully clothed and sitting  _ on  _ the bed right now. If you wanted to see me  _ in  _ bed with the Ascian, you should have come earlier.”

“That’s - that’s not-” Phoebe sends Alisaie a grin like a cat who ate the canary, despite the girl turning nearly as red as a tomato. Embarrassing Alisaie is one of Phoebe’s favorite pastimes, closely tied with embarrassing the other Leveilleur twin. Alisaie is much harder to embarrass, and it merely pushes her to do it even more.

“You will break her, Phe, and I believe you told me this one was your favorite this time around,” Hades teases, taking pity on the elezen, fingers snapping to create a chair for her to sit in, who collapses into it gratefully.

“Thank you?” she says, still looking over at the Ascian with thinly veiled distrust. “Phoebe?”

“Oh fine. Alisaie, this is-” Phoebe breaks off momentarily, looking over at Hades. She’s not sure which name he wants to go by this time around.

“Emet-Selch,” he chimes in, a small smile on his face at Phoebe’s look of surprise. Emet-Selch isn’t exactly his true name, but it’s a truer name than she had expected him to give.

“This is Emet-Selch, my, for lack of a better term in today’s language, husband.” It is too  _ small  _ of a word. To compare the ‘Eternal Bonding’ they use in Eorzea to the Bonding in Amaurot is like comparing a common snake to Leviathan.

“You are… married to an Ascian?” Phoebe frowns at Alisaie’s use of the word, but she supposes she should expect it. By and large the species of the Source today are mostly ignorant of the age that had come before their own.

“I am married to an Ancient who for the last millennia has pretended to be an Ascian, yes.”

Alisaie’s eyes visible widen at her response. “An Ancient? And why  _ pretend  _ to be an Ascian? What do you mean by ‘in today’s language’?”

A long sigh escapes Phoebe. “This is a long story, Alisaie, and if I tell you, I need to know that I can trust you and that you won’t tell anyone just yet.  _ Including  _ Alphinaud. If you can’t do that, it’s better for you to just forget you ever saw anything. Emet-Selch risks a lot by doing what he does, and the fewer people that know, the safer he remains.”

“Aw, you do care,” Hades says, finally chiming in as one hand wraps around her waist.

“Darling, not now,” Phoebe replies, resting her head on Hades’ shoulder, idly watching the elezen in front of her. She can feel the coiled tension from beside her that is Hades, despite his outwardly cavalier attitude. The hand around her waist is as much for comfort as it is to enable him to quickly remove them both from the room if he deems it necessary.

Alisaie is not quite panicking, but Phoebe can tell it’s a near thing. She can’t  _ blame  _ her, not really, she supposes. If she’d walked into Alisaie’s room to see her cuddling with Elidibus, she’d have been concerned as well. Phoebe would know Elidibus is  _ not  _ a cuddler. She’s tried.

A brief look of hurt crosses Alisaie’s face, and it as much as the reply that follows that confirms her decision, “I - you… you can trust me, Phoebe. You know that?”

She sends Alisaie a small smile, because she trusts Alisaie. The bond they share forged first in Alexander and then in the long war in Doma. “I do, which is why you are still in this room, and not conveniently being made to forget the last hour.”

She forgives Alisaie for the brief looks of fear and fury that cross her face. It’s not every day one of your closest friends idly discusses erasing your memory.

“You can do that?” Alisaie asks, eyes narrowing.

“No, but Emet-Selch can, and while it is not pleasant to experience, it is better than some alternatives. I would never ask him to do so if it wasn’t necessary for his safety, or your own. As far as I’m aware,” Phoebe began, trailing off to look at Hades next to her, who shakes his head no in response, “he has never changed  _ your  _ memories.”

She  _ likes  _ Alisaie, Hades hadn’t been wrong when he’d said that she was her favorite. More than that, she believes she can trust Alisaie to know this.

“So you have changed  _ someone’s  _ memories,” Alisaie replies, eyeing Hades warily.

“Yes. T’was for their own good, as much as it was for my own,” Hades responds, tone clear that he has no intention of elaborating on the subject further.

Alisaie’s own response is on the tip of her tongue, but when her eyes flick to Phoebe’s they soften at the pleading look on her face. A long moment passes before Alisaie waves her hands as if to say ‘fine, continue’.

Phoebe takes a deep breath, mouth pursing for a moment as she considers.

“How to begin… the simplest thing to explain is that I am also an Ancient, of sorts. Once upon a time, I was the Shepherd and guarded life on the planet, learning the ways of the peoples outside the city and communicating about them back to the Convocation. That was my role in Amaurot, the city in which we lived. Emet-Selch served as the Architect, in charge of Creation Magic. Just as Emet-Selch is his title on the Convocation,” Phoebe says, pointing over at Hades, “not his name, I had a title as well - Azem - that many came to know me by more often than my given name.”

Hades idly waves when he’s introduced, but otherwise seems momentarily content to let Phoebe do the talking.

“When we were young, we met, and bickered, and eventually fell in love. In the time of Amaurot, marriage was a much… lengthier thing than it is today. It was a blending of your very core, of your souls. When I died and was later reborn, it was a trivial thing for Hades to find me again. My ties to him have always resulted in… irregular rebirths for me. Typically, at a young age, I get flashes of memory. Slowly at first, more as I get older, and by the time I’ve reached eighteen I usually remember all of my lives. It stretches into one long existence for me now.” She stops momentarily and gauges how well Alisaie was doing and toss a fond smile to her husband’s way.

“So you’ve been married to him the entire time?” Alisaie looks vaguely dazed, but she has her typical determined look firmly on her face.  _ Here  _ is her Alisaie, Phoebe thinks, ever-ready to jump head-first into the next problem.

“We have been married for longer than it is even worth counting,” Phoebe replies with a shrug. Time is a strange concept for her, lives blurring together, leaving her scarcely able to tell one life from another.

“Thirty millennia, next decade,” Hades responds without hesitation.

Phoebe levels a glare at her husband, who at some point had decided that Alisaie wasn’t, in fact, a threat and had gone back to reading his book. “Is it really?”

“Yes,” he replies, merely turning the page. She knows it’s for dramatic effect, he’s already read the book a dozen times or more. She also resists the urge to tell him he is reading it upside down. Insufferable man that he is, he does it on purpose occasionally just for the challenge, and her calling him out on it would just give him a chance to brag.

“Thirty millennia?” Alisaie asks, voice escalating enough that Phoebe spares a glance at the surrounding walls, pleased when she notes they still bore the faint sheen of the silencing aether Hades had used earlier.

“I do not use the term Ancient lightly. Amaurotine citizens did not die the way the mortal races do now, we… lived until we did not wish to anymore. Sometimes an accident would claim your physical form, but that was easily remedied with a clone of yourself.” She lets the moment stretch on, giving Alisaie a moment to process the words. Not everyone could accept the cavalier attitude they had had about physical bodies before the Sundering, but it had been a typical fact of life for them.

Phoebe had died enough that Hades had requested she keep two spare clones of herself at all times, but such was a fact of life for her as the Guardian of Life. She spent much more of her time fighting than the common citizen, and more of it than a certain lazy man who mostly got to sit at a desk approving concepts.

“So part of your bond was such that if that happened, you’d remain married?”

Phoebe considers her reply for a moment, but it’s true, if not over-simplified. “Yes.”

“And why is he  _ pretending  _ to be an Ascian?” Alisaie is watching Hades now, no doubt taking in the fact that he isn’t even bothering to  _ hold  _ his book, he’s just floating it in front of him, leaving Phoebe to roll her eyes at how he’s still found a way to show-off.

“Emet-Selch has been pretending to be a tempered Ascian of Zodiark’s since before Hydaelyn defeated Zodiark, at my request.” She frowns, reaching a hand for Hades, confirming to herself that he’s there, even as she presses up against him. “Without Emet-Selch running interference… let's just say things would be much worse.”

Alisaie lets out a deep sigh, but her eyes are bright with intrigue. “So he’s a spy?”

“Yes. But, Alisaie, I need you to understand this,  _ when _ , because it will happen eventually -  _ when  _ we run into Emet-Selch, he will not be kind. He will not be the overgrown house-cat you see in my room, he most likely will try to hurt us, because that is who he must pretend to be, and outside of these rooms, our relationship  _ does not exist. _ ” The words break her heart to say, but they’re true. This will not be the first or the last life that they will clash in.

There’s a rustling beside her as Hades shifts, and the idle tone he uses belies the weight of his next sentence, “I believe I have come up with a plan to avoid that.”

“Have you now?” Phoebe replies, leaning forward and pulling the book out of the way so she can look at Hades.

“Alas, that is all I can say for now,” Hades responds, frowning at her abduction of his book. With a raise of his eyebrows and a snap of his fingers, it reappears in his hand.

“I hate you,” Phoebe responds with a pout, looking at her now-empty hands. Sometimes, she really misses having her own Creation magic.

“I know,” he says, giving her a cheshire grin.

Alisaie is slumped down in her chair, watching the two of them interact. “You two are definitely an old married couple. That fact is perhaps the most believable about anything you’ve told me so far.”

“Thank you?” Phoebe says, hesitantly, her words reminding her that Alisaie was still in the room with them as she looks back over at her friend. “Does that mean you believe me?”

She receives a tentative smile in response, but her reply calms the anxiety that has been rushing through her. “Yes, though, I have something like a thousand more questions.”

Phoebe sends a pleading eyes over at Hades. “Darling, please? You explain this so much better than I do.”

She gets an exasperated, resigned look in response, and a moment later he adds, “I expect to be rewarded for this later.” His reply has Phoebe sending him a devilish look.

Hades to shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and launches into an explanation of Zodiark, Hydaelyn, and the fall of Amaurot.

Forty-five minutes and a mere dozen or two of questions from Alisaie later, the dazed elezen slowly makes her way out of the room, intent on returning to her own, burying her head under a pillow, and never coming out. At least, that’s what she tells them she will do, and Phoebe considers the night a moderate success.

Hades had apparently decided mid-way through the conversation that Phoebe was just a giant pillow, and had taken to laying on her lap, even as he’d projected images of the shards and calamities from his hands.

She idly traces a hand through the white streak of hair, considering. “That could’ve gone worse.”

Hades huffs in response. “Considering you conspired to make sure it happened, I suppose so.”

“I have no idea what you mean. Lies,” she laughs in response but looks down at Hades with thinly concealed anxiety.

“My dear Phoebe, if I had truly been concerned, you know I would have locked the door long before she could open it. You clearly left the door unlocked intentionally, and it inclined me to see where it would lead.”

His idle response doesn’t do justice to how much faith he has in her, leaving Phoebe to lean down to kiss him on the forehead, smiling softly as she admits, “I may have. With the Scions all falling ill, I needed to know someone was aware of everything you do for us, and I trust Alisaie.”

Hades stares at her for a moment, the pause long enough to bring back some of her anxiety. “If I told you I knew where your friends were going--”

“No. Don’t,” Phoebe says, finger pressing to his lips. “I’m terrified for them, but you would’ve told me the first time I asked if it was safe, and as much as I want to know, your safety will always be the most important to me, Darling.”

Hades bites on the finger covering his mouth, never content to be silenced for long, but when she pouts and holds it out for him to kiss it better, he does so with only a slight roll of his eyes.

“How long before you need to go?” she asks, hands reaching to cup the sides of his face, needing to touch him while she can. Already she feels her heart sinking, preparing to not see him again for months on end, if ever again during this lifetime.

He reaches up, pulling her closer at her words. “Never fear my dear Warrior, this goodbye will not be for long. Still, tis a good thing I have just enough time for my  _ reward _ .”


	2. The Crystarium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Starships for the beta! <3 !r love.

She hates this. Hates these lives where she's set against him, hates the need to fight him, hates the weariness in her very bones that she gets after arriving on the First. 

But what she hates most is knowing that the blood of this shard is on Hades' hands because of her. Because  _ she _ asked him to do this and for millennia, his hands made for creating have instead destroyed. He has flooded this shard with Light, an aether diametrically opposed to his own, and she knows immediately that he's done it for her. Light is  _ her _ element. Whatever she's going to have to do on this shard will be easier because once again, Hades has made himself suffer for her. 

She hates him a little bit for it. Hates herself for even thinking it. 

Oh, but the depth of her love for him is endless, as vast as the stars above and beyond, but she wished he would be more selfish, have flooded this shard in the quiet abyss of death, let her suffer,  _ punish _ her for the things she asks of him. 

He'd never do it. 

Hades will always take everything onto himself, suffer to make  _ her _ job even a fraction easier, even if it means ruin for himself. He'll argue that  _ she _ is the one with more hurts, the one whose soul is fractured, who will die again and again and again, sometimes at his very hands. The deaths he gives her are soft, as painless as possible; for after all, what is his specialty but death? He who has ever been able to see the Underworld, whose ability to see the Lifestream with that crystal clarity rivaled only by Hythlodaeus and herself?

Phoebe  _ is weary _ . This life has already been a long one, moving faster faster faster than the ones before and the only relief she gets is to know that  _ something _ is changing. Hydaelyn is weaker, but so too are the Ascians of Zodiark, falling in count by greater numbers than ever before.

She hasn't even had time to mourn Lahabrea. She'd choked down the sobs that had risen to her throat when Thordan absorbed him, used her fury at the god-king to destroy him and, she hoped, finally free Lahabrea from Zodiark. With Hydaelyn so quiet, Hydaelyn who had taken nearly every ilm of Phoebe's creation magic, every smidge of her ability to interact with the Lifestream, she had no way to know if her brother in all but name was finally resting. If he'd ever live again. She both hoped that he would, and that he wouldn't. Lahabrea hadn't taken the fall well, hopped from body to body to body, frantically searching for  _ her _ for so long that he'd forgotten why he'd begun doing it. He had lapsed into insanity, all that remained of his brilliant mind.

She’s given up everyone she’s ever loved for the greater good across the millennia. Friends, family,  _ Amaurot. _ She wants to be  _ bitter _ , wants to rage against all that there is, but every time she nearly gives up, the people that populate the planet remind her that they can be  _ amazing _ . Their will to live, their drive to ever move forward, the depths of their kindness for each other even in the midst of despair, and she swallows it down, pushes her bitterness and longing to just  _ sleep _ and be with Hades to the side.

She listens to the Exarch explain where she is, why and how she's come to be here but all she sees is Hades' touch on everything. He has schemed to bring her here as clearly as it is G'raha Tia under the Exarch’s robes. She’s not sure why he’s bothering to try and hide, but she allows the disguise to continue; he must have his reasons. They call the Crystarium a monument to defiance in the face of  _ death _ and she nearly flinches at how accurate the statement is. 

Over a  _ century _ ago, Hades had begun scheming this. She’d been alive once, during that century, whilst he had been Emperor Solus. It had not been one of her favorite lives.

G’raha prattles on about the Crystarium, how gil and  _ tomestones _ even exist on this planet and she nearly sighs. He’s barely even trying to pretend to not be from the Source.  _ Finally, _ they make their way to a place she can call her own, and she can sleep her way through the depression overtaking her. A little sleep, and she’ll be good as new - the cheery, hopeful Warrior of Light that everyone expects of her.

* * *

“Ardbert?” Phoebe says, looking at him stunned when he appears in the room. She hadn’t expected to see to the wayward bit of her soul again so soon. When he’d left with Minfilia she’d assumed that his soul would re-enter the Lifestream and that another version of her would be reborn.

“Why are you still here?” She asks, shaking her head. Phoebe frowns when he explains the Flood of light, and how he came to linger behind.

“Fate has brought me to you,” Ardbert says, and Phoebe lets out a laugh. It wasn’t exactly  _ fate _ so much as a desperate G’raha Tia, and a manipulative Architect.

“You’re  _ me _ , Ardbert. You were drawn to me because you are a fraction of my soul. I can see you because, of course, I can see a reflection of myself.” She pacing the room, alternating between looking at him and being frustrated that Hades isn’t here already. 

When she entered the room and had thrown open the windows to see the ever-present light, she’d sent a tug down their bond. Frowning, she tried to send ‘ _ something new?’ _ as well, but her words often didn’t make it through the bond, sounding something like shouting through a wall, according to her missing husband.

Ardbert’s looking at her like she’s crazy. Of course he is. She’d probably be looking at him the same way if their situations were reversed, but as she’s the one from the Source, she gets the memories. It’s never easy for her when she meets fractions of her soul from the shards. She hates that they’re just fragment of herself and yet are expected to be the champion.

Ardbert is not the exception to the rule. It’s unfair, the things Hydaelyn asks of them, of what  _ she’s _ asked of them, honestly. She doesn’t have an alternative.

A ripping sound occurs, and Hades walks through the portal in full Ascian getup, and immediately his eyes land on Ardbert. “Ah.” He says, eyeing the shade like one might appreciate a fine wine.  _ Oh for Hydaelyn’s sake _ . She’d forgotten Hades wasn’t particularly  _ picky _ with the reflections of herself. As far as he was concerned they were  _ all _ her, and Phoebe had never been particularly disinclined to argue otherwise.

“No, Darling. Now is not the time for whatever thought just crossed your mind.” Phoebe said, giving Hades a pointed glance. The practically devious one he sent her in response was all the confirmation she needed.

“Ardbert, stop reaching for the axe, please. You can neither hurt Hades nor should you. Hades is my husband, and as such is… yours as well? I’ll explain everything if you give me a moment. Hades, were you aware that Ardbert was still lingering here?”

“Not quite. I rather thought he’d been cycled back into the Lifestream. Your presence here must have been what is lending enough aether to him to become visible.”

“ _ He _ can see me as well?” Ardbert asks.

“Of course I can,” Hades replies, looking at Ardbert, “As Phe just told you, we’re married.”

“What does that even  _ MEAN _ !” Ardbert demands, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“Being married means exactly what you think it means. Millennia ago when my soul was whole, I sacrificed myself to summon Hydaelyn, along with the support of the remainder of my race. That action split my soul into fourteen pieces - One on each of the thirteen shards our planet split into, and one that remained on the Source, the largest and central piece of my home.  _ You _ -” Phoebe said, pointing at Ardbert, “are the piece of my soul that lives and reincarnates to the First.  _ I _ am the piece from the Source. The calamities that have resulted in seven shards of the thirteen returning to the source mean that those fragments of my soul have  _ also _ returned to me.”

“Phe, you neglected to explain our marriage in any of that,” Hades says wryly.

“Oh. Right.” Phoebe responds, looking at the mostly dazed Hyur in front of her. Hands waving as she talks, she explains, “Before all that I was married to Hades, who is pretending to be tempered by Zodiark, the primal the Convocation members summoned to stop the Doom that was about to destroy the planet.”

“Oh for the love of-” Hades rolls his eyes and walks over to sit on the nearby bed, Ardbert watching him constantly. “How can you be this bad at this conversation? Haven’t you done it before?”

“Not really!” Phoebe responds with a sheepish grin, walking over to curl up next to her husband, “Not in this context at least. That’s why I usually make you do it.”

“I need a drink,” Ardbert replies sullenly, looking both thoroughly confused and resigned at the same time. “This is normal for her?” He asks, looking over at Hades.

“Quite.” The Architect responds before a hand-wave has a martini appearing in his hand. “Sit down, shade, and I’ll explain things  _ properly _ .”

It’s hours later before Ardbert stops asking question after question, alternating between furious, horrified and fascinated.

“So you were summoned here to  _ save _ the first… after  _ he _ ,” Ardbert asked, pointing at Hades, “did this to us.”

Phoebe flinches, looking between the two. “Yes. I can’t- Ardbert, I’m-”

“Save it,” Ardbert says, turning and fading away as he walked through the door to her room.

“Well, that went rather well, I think,” Hades said at length, throwing back the remainder of his martini and summoning another for each of them.

“I’m not quite sure that’s entirely an accurate description, Darling. But I suppose it could not have gone much better. It takes… time to process. He’ll come around.”

“They don’t all,” he says idly, stirring the olives around in his drink, not meeting her eyes.

“Hey,” Phoebe says, grabbing both glasses and turning to put them down on the nearby stand, “even if he doesn’t, it doesn’t change how  _ I _ feel about you.” She gives Hades her best smile, batting her eyes at him, smiling for real when he rolls his eyes at her but grins all the same.

* * *

She resigns herself to trudging across the shard to retrieve her wayward friends after he explains how long they had come to be here. Her heart tugs for Alisaie, who had been so desperate to stay with her after learning the truth. Alisaie who she had further burdened with the depths of her sorrows when she’d found Phoebe staring listlessly at the bar in the Rising Stones. She had challenged Phoebe to spar, determined to do what she could to raise her spirits.

“It makes sense,” Alisaie had said, lunging at Phoebe with her rapier, who had deftly dodged to the side.

“What makes sense?” She had asked, Verthunder briefly causing Alisaie’s hair to stick on end, causing Phoebe to let out a snort.

“Why you would be seemingly cheerful, but as the days pass become wearier. Usually, it takes Urianger wooing you with books or Thancred to secret you away to get you to cheer up. It’s right after he’s able to visit, isn’t it?”

Phoebe let her rapier touch the ground in a move she knew would’ve made her ancient teachers furious. “Am I that obvious?”

Alisaie sent her a sympathetic smile. “Only now that I can look back on it.”

“Thancred knows,” Phoebe had said with a sigh. “I told him after Lahabrea. Well, after I purged Lahabrea from his body, I guess. It took… a lot of explaining. He doesn’t precisely  _ like _ it, but I think he understands. Usually, we just drink. I don’t know what Urianger has figured out by himself. You know how he likes his secrets, but he somehow always has something new for me to read.”

Alisaie glumly looked over at her, “What does it say about me, that I never noticed? That most of us never did?”

“Nothing about you. It says only that I have learned to be a very good liar. I’ve had millennia of practice at it after all. Sometimes it’s hard to remember what’s the truth, and what’s a lie with how often I’ve told them.”

“Promise,” Alisaie asked, looking over at her earnestly, but with some concern, “that if you ever need someone to talk to, actually  _ talk _ to, and not just get glaringly drunk with, that you’ll come to find me?”

“That sounds like a deal.”

Abruptly, Phoebe snaps back to the present as she nearly runs into a wall. She could use Alisaie and that chance to talk right now. With a sigh, she heads through the Crystarium. It is time to go to Ahm Araeng and retrieve the first of her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiyoooo! :) Thank to Joker & Thief Discord for answering important questions like: Would Hades think Ardbert is fair game, since he's a fraction of his wife's soul?


	3. Amh Araeng

Twelve above, she knows that if Hades is still watching her, he’s got to be positively cackling as she debates between which disgusting option the Mord Souq has given her would be the least likely to make her puke. She can feel his amusement down the bond, and she surreptitiously looks around to see if she can spot where he’s lurking to no avail.

It’d have to be the glazed wriggler, she thought, before telling Rhonrhon as such. How had her life reached this point? Once upon a time, she would eat pepper-crusted steak at fine restaurants before slowly wandering her way to a cafe for tea, or to drag Hades with her to their favorite ice cream shop to get a shake for her, and an obnoxiously simple vanilla ice cream for him. Then the world ended and here she was… eating worms. Maybe if she closed her eyes as she did it, she could pretend they were one of those jellied desserts?

Phoebe swallows down the wriggler and fakes a smile before Rhonrhon informs her that she’d bought fifteen jars of them. While not quite as bad as she expected since the glaze truly did help, she would not be consuming that many. They had always encouraged them to share life’s bounty in Amaurot after all, so she could certainly share these as well. Fortunately, the Mord seem to have no issue with the idea, and nearly all of Mord Souq turns up to share the ‘treat’.

Still, she’s pleased when Tesleen leads her toward the Inn, and ever closer to her friend.

She should be shocked that Alisaie seems to spot her immediately, but she’s not. Her friend seems to be much improved during her time on the First, far stronger than Phoebe remembers her being just a short time ago. Still, the relief that flows through her when Alisaie turns around and teases her, that Phoebe all but throws herself into a hug with the much shorter girl. She can feel Alisaie’s surprise before she laughs and hugs Phoebe back just as tightly.

The joy doesn’t last long. This place is a nightmare, Phoebe thinks as Alisaie fills her in on the state of Amh Araeng. As if the flood of light wasn’t enough, there are people slowly turning into these creatures. There has to be something she can do. Anything is better than what they’re currently able to do. Her ability to manipulate aether is nowhere near what it once was, but this is light. If she can’t even manipulate that, what good is she? She’s barely got time to even start thinking of what she could do when the eyes of all the patients turn upward, and then the girls are sprinting off trying to find Halric.

Alisaie and herself are frantically running toward him when Phoebe sees how the moment will play out. There’s the sin eater, there’s the boy, and they are nowhere near close enough to prevent it from getting to him first. Tesleen appears from behind a dune, and Phoebe wants to close her eyes and look away from the moment that is coming. Instead, she sees how Tesleen leaps out and slices part off the creature's wing but then neglects to finish it.

She’s moving faster than she has in a long time, sprinting with everything she has, but there’s no way she’ll reach the two in time to come between the sword the sin eater is carrying and the girl who doesn’t even look back at it. Alisaie will blame Hades, and Phoebe will have no way to truly justify his actions that lead up to this moment. The elezen could look past a lot of things, but watching her closest friend here be slain? Someone as good as Tesleen? No, that would be too much.

A snap rings through the air, and the scene changes. The Sin Eater vanishes into a void.

She counts it lucky that Tesleen is more focused on Halric than she is on the Sin Eater that should have skewered her through by now. Phoebe runs past them and casts a quick spell in hopes that Tesleen will attribute the death of the Sin Eater to the fiery explosion that occurs a moment later.

Separately, Phoebe mentally files away a note that Hades doesn’t normally follow her as much as this. Whatever he’s doing far diverges from their typical interactions outside the safety of a closed room. She gets the feeling that he’s taking a larger risk here than normal, and she shoves down the panic for him at the thought. Hades has been risking himself for millennia; whatever he is up to, he’ll have at least ten ways to excuse it away. She’s still not sure where he is, but the snap couldn’t have come from anyone but him.

The risk or not, it’s worth the trouble. Tesleen is the kind of person that reminds Phoebe of what she has fought for so long to protect, the kind of life that Hades is risking everything for. These people and creatures of the Crystarium, of the Inn, of the tiny villages in-between who fight to do more than just live but to help one another, deserve more than to be treated as fuel for Zodiark’s release.

“Halric! Tesleen! Are you both okay? Twelve above, Phoebe how have you gotten so much stronger since I last saw you? I’m so glad you were nearby today, or that would’ve ended much worse. I barely even saw you cast that first spell.”

Phoebe sends a grateful smile in her direction, before replying, “As am I. Is everyone alright?” A nod from Tesleen has Alisaie gently herding everyone back in the direction of the Inn safe and sound, vowing to keep a closer eye on the boy. Phoebe waves off Tesleen’s horrified thank-you when she finally realizes that she’d also been nearly killed.

Phoebe waits until everyone is sleeping that ‘night’ before sneaking her way to the boy nearest to death. Halric. Alisaie is conveniently the one watching over him, and Phoebe convinces her to take a break by offering to watch the boy herself. Alisaie shuffles off sleepily in the direction of her bedroll, and Phoebe crouches down in front of the boy’s vacant stare.

Ringing through her mind is the bedtime story Tesleen told her, the line ‘Warrior of Darkness, servant of death’, and it sends chills through her, while somehow simultaneously also making her want to smack Hades. Servant of Death. Whatever story he convinced Mitron and Loghrif to spread on the First before their untimely deaths to Ardbert must’ve been an interesting one. It’s a clue though, for her.

Closing her eyes, Phoebe reaches out with her aether toward the boy’s. It’s impossible to miss when she focuses, a glaring brightness, even in a sea of other bright spots. To her left is the steady red that has always been Alisaie, the cerulean blue not much further likely Tesleen’s. A rainbow of colors surrounds her, some buried under the layers of white overtaking them.

The boy does not have much time left. His aether is nearly snuffed out by the light, and Phoebe isn’t sure even if she managed to mitigate the light if he’d ever be the same again. Aether was finicky; in the more magically inclined it would likely take little time to restore, but for those with less, they’d likely need to venture to a location with a surplus to regain their balance.

“Let sinners and eaters of sin go with thee” Tesleen had said the story went. Maybe that meant Phoebe could take the excess Light? Fumbling as best as she could to try and pull the excess Light toward her, Phoebe shouldn’t have been surprised at how quickly it slid away from the boy and toward her instead. In barely a moment, she’d entirely removed the Light from his soul, but what to do with it now? A moment’s hesitation had her wrapping it within her own aether. If done right, she could use it to bolster her own stores, but for now, she’d have to settle for it being contained in a pocket.

Blinking her eyes open, Phoebe stared at the boy in front of her. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but the look in his eyes seemed to have changed a little. Before he seemed to just be endlessly staring out at the expanse, but now his eyes were slowly looking around the room.

Well. That would be fun to try and explain to Alisaie and the others in the morning. But first… there were others here who could use her help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: "Alisaie's going to be so maaaad when Tesleen dies tho."  
Starships: "Okay, so don't kill her."
> 
> And then POOF~~~~ we've diverged from canon.


	4. Kholusia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to Koosei on this one for remembering the name of a certain location in Eulmore! <3

“PHOEBE!” 

The shout startles Phoebe awake from where she’d flopped down on her bedroll after ‘curing’ the last patient at the Inn. She’d been exhausted, and from how drained she still feels, she’s not sure that much time has actually passed. She’d barely managed to shake Tesleen awake for her shift before she’d passed out.

“-‘Saie? What’s wrong?” She mumbles, blinking slowly at the elezen that is practically vibrating in front of her.

“Wrong? Nothing is  _ wrong _ ! That’s the thing, overnight, every patient at the Inn seems to have miraculously gotten  _ better _ , and you wouldn’t know anything about that,  _ would you _ ?” Alisaie seems torn between being furious and elated, and it is an interesting juxtaposition to watch play across the girl’s face.

“Yes. I did a thing. Can I go back to sleep now?” Phoebe sleepily smiles at Alisaie, who is shaking her head in response.

“You are  _ impossible _ , Phoebe Gaian. What am I supposed to tell everyone?”

“I don’t know,” Phoebe replies, already beginning to bury herself under her bedroll and after a moment, stealing Alisaie’s as well. It was so  _ bright _ here, confound it. “You’ll figure something out.”

She briefly hears Alisaie muttering something about how this was really more Alphinaud’s type of thing than hers before Alisaie is stomping off, leaving Phoebe to the sweet release of sleep. Hades had it right; sleep truly is the best thing in the world.

\--------------------

“Phe, Alisaie,” Hades says, walking out of the portal and glaring in the direction of the ever-present light. They’d returned to the Crystarium after Phoebe had woken at the Inn, but a day later finds them slowly making their way through Kholusia, exchanging complaints about the First and how much they both wish they were back on the Source, swimming through the waters of Doma.

“Hello, Darling,” Phoebe replies, firing a bullet in the direction of the - Camelon? Iguana? That had been creeping up on Alisaie. Letting out an ‘Eep!’ at the bullet whizzing past her shoulder, Alisaie turns and glares before she sends a Jolt to finish off the lizard-like creature.

She stops to slice the tail off from the monster, and after a moment’s consideration starts skinning the creature as well. There’s enough of it left that’s not crisped from Alisaie’s attack that she can get the scales and hide from it later.

“Alisaie, can you get the eyes?” She asks the girl, before looking up and grinning at the mildly disturbed expression crossing Hades’ face, both at how unphased Alisaie is by her request and at her own actions.

“I’m sorry, not all of us can make items appear with a snap,” she says with a laugh, only to receive a  _ look  _ of ‘How did I become married to you?’ in return.

“Not that it’s not a delight to see you, Darling, but it’s been about a minute and I believe you’re already wilting,” she adds with a frown at how Hades seems to be wilting even more than normal.

“Tis not  _ I _ who decided you should near immediately go to the location with the strongest source of Light.”

She sends him a wry grin in response, nose crinkling as she gestures vaguely in the direction of Kholusia, “We need to get Alphinaud. He’s here somewhere.”

Hades mutters a “You know you could try and sense where he was if you practiced with your aether,” before replying, “Alisaie’s less interesting twin is in the small town near Eulmore.”

“Hah!” Alisaie briefly cackles in response to Hades, pivoting to grin at him. Phoebe rolls her eyes at his overt attempts to win over Alisaie, though honestly, he’d probably already done that back with Tesleen.

"Aww, Hades, have you been watching out for my friends?" 

"Of course I have," Hades says with a sigh, "tis a careful balance of allowing them to progress in knowledge whilst hindering their overall momentum. I could not let them succeed without you, m'dear."

Phoebe scoffs, while Alisaie’s grin turns thoughtful, and Phoebe can practically see her ticking through the last year for moments when Hades could’ve hindered her progress before her face lights up once more.

“Hey, Hades?” Alisaie calls after a moment.

Hades sends a wary look Phoebe’s way before looking over at the young elezen, “Yes?”

“Thanks for the save back there,” Alisaie says, waving vaguely in the direction that Phoebe assumes she thinks is Ahm Araeng, but most definitely isn’t.

“I have not the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Hades replies, raising his eyebrows but giving that cocky smile that Phoebe knows like the back of her hand.

“With Tes-” Alisaie begins, but Hades cuts her off. 

“Phoebe, I think the sun has addled your companion’s memory.”

Phoebe settles for kicking dirt in his direction, but he merely raises an eyebrow and floats slightly beyond her range. The jerk isn’t even bothering to  _ walk _ . She knows very well that soon enough he'll complain about getting a sunburn and promptly sleep half the day away because of 'all the fresh air' he got. In the meantime, they’ll be here walking their way to the city half an island away. What she wouldn’t give for herself & Alisaie’s Yol.

She shakes her head when Alisaie turns to give her a look of ‘Why is he refusing to discuss what happened’, hoping that the message she sends in return of ‘I’ll talk to you about it  _ later _ ’ gets through.

"Is there anything I need to know?" she asks, glancing over at Hades and suddenly wishing she had more than just spectacles on for glasses. Everything here is so  _ bright,  _ she practically needed the sunhat she wore for gathering just to see anything. A moment later she lets out a small cheer when Hades waves his hand and Phoebe’s favorite hat appeared. 

"I can practically hear your complaining from over here, and I can’t very well be associated with you if your face gets stuck squinting."

"I didn't even say anything! … Did I?" Phoebe says on her way over to snatch the hat. The arse dangles it slightly out of reach, smirking at her for a moment until Phoebe smacks him in the stomach and grabs it while he reels.

"No, tis merely that this version of you is rather an open book."

Usually, she is able to keep a pretty firm grasp on her emotions, but on occasion, her walls frazzle and things leak out. It’s not a problem with Hades, but with other Ascians, it was a weakness she had been attempting to overcome with Hades’ help. 

They seemed to be even more scattered than usual here on the First, but it was likely due to Ardbert's presence and her aether’s continued attempts to envelop him into her. It was concerning, as it hadn’t been a problem when he was on the Source, but one that Phoebe would have to figure out later.

"Mmm, I think only you might have that particular talent here on the First, Darling," Phoebe says, stretching up to pull him closer and dropping. He tucks the hat onto her head, gliding some distance away -- his gentle way of reminding her that they were not in a safe place for her actions. Phoebe smiles sadly at him before returning to her trudge, ignoring Alisaie’s exaggerated smoochy sounds from behind her.

"I would not recommend poking this particular bear just yet," Hades says, gesturing in the direction of Eulmore. "A few more of your allies would not be remiss."

Phoebe just barely manages to not stop short at his words again. Hades rarely told her such things, so either he was truly worried about her (a possibility, though a low one given how Hydaelyn seemed disinclined to let this version of her perish) or he was up to something even trickier than normal. 

"Alright," she replies, shooting an aether bullet in the direction of a wolf that had begun inching its way closer to Hades. He could easily take care of it, but, well... she was holding a gun and was inclined toward shooting things. The insulting thing was, she was pretty sure she'd created the predecessors of some of these creatures back in Amaurot. 

Hades levels a tired glare at the monster at his feet. "That's enough of that, I think. Until next, m'dear," he says, opening a portal and waving that arrogant wave of his, not even waiting for her reply as he walks through. 

“Is he always like that?” Alisaie asks the moment the portal closes.

“Yes,” Phoebe replies, walking over to gather some of the creature’s remains to give her a moment to consider an answer Alisaie will accept. “He doesn’t like attention being drawn to the things he does. In part, because it means _literally_ drawing attention to what he’s doing, but I think he also hates that he can’t do more. It’s been… a very long time, Alisaie.”

“That’s… terrible.” She replies, staring at Phoebe with a frown.

“I know,” Phoebe says, frowning before nodding her head in the direction of Eulmore. “However, such is the life we chose. C’mon, from what Hades says, we need to grab your brother and hightail it out of here.”

\-------------

“Alphinaud!” Phoebe calls out, scarcely giving the elezen a moment to react before she’s leaping onto him and grabbing him into a hug. For all that Alisaie was her confidant, she truly had missed the other twin. She can hear Alisaie snickering behind her and Alphinaud’s fumbling protest that Phoebe ignores as she hugs him closer. It had been  _ far _ too long.

“Alphinaud, every time I let you out of my sight you get into some trouble or another. I’ve been  _ so _ worried about you!” Something in Phoebe uncoils at seeing Alphinaud whole and unharmed. They’d spent ages together in Ishgard, and she’s come to see Alphinaud as the sort of younger brother she hadn’t dared to claim since before the world ended.

“Tell me, what’s been happening here? Alisaie,” Phoebe gestures to the other twin, “has already filled me in on much of the state of things. I imagine she’s filled you in on everything that happened back on the Source before the ‘Exarch’,” she paused to roll her eyes at how G’raha was attempting to disguise himself, “brought her here.”

Alphinaud explains the situation in Eulmore as the three of them head toward the massive city spiraling upward in the distance. Each sentence has Phoebe boiling in fury, and she carries it with her as they work to enter the city. 

She gets a brief moment of hilarity at Alphinaud’s stubborn resistance to showering. By the time he has given in, Alisaie has already finished, re-dressed and laughed at her brother for a solid handful of minutes.

Neither twin seems to appreciate it when Phoebe jokes about them dressing up like Eulmore’s jesters, despite her protests that the Jesters are even color-coded the way the twins are. It brings a moment of levity to the otherwise dour expressions that they’d all been wearing, so Phoebe can’t bring herself to regret it, even if both twins had sworn revenge.

Later, as amusing as watching Alphinaud attempt to paint, and Alisaie turning red as her clothing in The Beehive, she’s finding that the entire place sickens her, and Alisaie beside her isn’t much better. Hades is lurking distantly behind them as they venture through the city, and Phoebe has to prevent Alisaie from getting thrown into jail at least twice before they finish investigating. By the time they get back to Alphinaud, they’re both near ready to explode in anger.

When they finally return to the Chai’s, Phoebe wants to hate them both for their self-indulgence, but something about Dulia-Chai charms her. Both of the Chai’s seem to be more  _ ignorant  _ than intentionally cruel, and it tempers her fury for a time. If not for them, and the occasional spot of true kindness, Phoebe would want to burn all of Eulmore to the ground, the entire kingdom a testament to the things the Ascians would point to as an example of how the current species were undeserving of inheriting the planet they had lost. 

Vauthry is another matter entirely. She can  _ feel _ Hades still lurking behind them somewhere, and the anger _ worry _ furycuriositydisgust he’s allowing to come through the bond serves as a warning of what is to come. Even then, when they come upon Kai-Shirr it’s only Alisaie’s whispered reminder of his words earlier and Alphinaud’s gesture from their place on either side of Phoebe that has the warrior  _ not _ pulling out her gun and shooting the Sin Eaters surrounding the disgusting  _ thing  _ disguising himself as a man.

Vauthry wants to  _ feed _ people to his Sin Eaters. Phoebe has her hand subtly pulling Alisaie back from leaping forward, but truly she is ready to do much of the same. They’re both near vibrating in fury, and only Alphinaud turning to heal Kai-Shirr and the subtle soothing emotions coming from Hades’ have her turning to walk away, shooting a furious look in the direction of where she’s felt him. They are going to have  _ words _ about Eulmore the next time she sees him.

She does join Alisaie in the death glare she sends a moment later as they walk out of the building before they’re sharing a smirk at Alphinaud’s parting insult.

They will be back for Vauthry once the Scions on the First are reunited, and that’s a promise Phoebe makes to both of the twins as they head back to the Crystarium. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always Starships with the 'but HOW did she collect the materials' resulting in 'FINE. SHE SKINNED IT. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?' <3 <# <3


	5. The Nameless Shard

Her anger leaves her trembling. Even as she returns to her room in the Inn, waving off Alphinaud’s queries and Alisaie’s lingering glance, she feels the fire in her veins aching to destroy.

Walking away from a situation like that is not one she has been asked to do in a very, very long time. As Hydaelyn’s Champion, it is her duty to protect those weaker than herself, but this burn stretches back much further than that or any of the lives she’s lived since the Sundering.

She is the Guardian of Life, even now. Just as Emet-Selch is the Angel of Truth and is compelled to tell only the truth, she is to guard life. She is  _ unable  _ to say no when an honest request for help is made of her. It is why she has hunted down creatures, tracked down dozens of missing relatives, listened to a thousand otherwise inane stories because someone would feel better for it.

Inaction like what she had done in Eulmore would’ve been impossible before the Sundering.

As it is now, the rage builds in her blood, and if she does not fight soon, the frenzy will leave her barely conscious of her actions. She’d spent the trip back to the Crystarium holding it off as best she could, helping every person in Stilltide who needed aid, even if it meant dragging the twins along with her.

It was why Hades had lurked in Eulmore, waiting to see if the rage would become too much, feeding her the constant stream of calm, but ready to grab her and go if it had escalated to the point where he thought the citizens would’ve been in danger.

She has barely entered her room when Hades pulls her through a portal, dropping her somewhere pitch black and foreign.

“How bad?” he asks, golden eyes worried as he looks her over, seeing her clenching fists and short abrupt movements.

She takes a deep breath, nearly choking on the putrid smell in the air, squeezing her eyes as tightly shut as they can go, desperately trying to think of anything else but the man in front of her. The fury within her is pinning the blame for Eulmore squarely on him, and the part of her that is the Guardian does not care that he is also her husband, that killing him would kill a large part of herself.

“We are not quite where I was at the Sundering, but you need to  _ go _ .”

She hears the portal open and his footsteps as he turns to leave when the sound of him walking abruptly stops. 

“Wait, Phe, I should tell you--”

“ _ Go _ , Darling,” she whimpers out, hand shakily reaching for the gun at her side. Not him, she pleads with herself. He could fend her off, she knows, but it would not be pleasant, nor without injury to the both of them. Before the fall of Amaurot, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

It isn’t for a long moment after she hears the portal shut again that she opens her eyes to the space he’s left her in.

Grateful for her Miqo’te eyes, it takes only a moment before they adjust to the darkness that she’s surrounded in. When she takes a hesitant step forward her foot kicks something that rattles, scattering about the floor.

The cave she finds herself in is damp, muffled sounds of thunder and crashing waves coming from the direction likely leading out of the cave. Lightning flickers, sporadically creating flashes of light, dimmed by the faint sheen of a barrier staving off the worst of the storm.

Searching around, her eyes eventually settle on what she had kicked earlier - a skull. Mostly humanoid in shape, though it doesn’t seem familiar enough to have come from one of the races she knows on the Source or the First, meaning Hades has likely dropped her on another shard.

The answer to the cause of the putrid smell is given when she sees that the room is filled with the skeletons of the fallen. Armored torsos and limbs, still clutching staves and swords alike, have been left unattended, save that every one of them is missing their skull. No, those she would say have almost been tenderly cared for, lined as they are on top of a makeshift table. Tenderly, had it not been, of course, for the fact that they had all been cracked open from the tentacles prying them open to consume their brains.

It’s not until the second step forward when she feels the first press against her mind. It is not a soothing touch like Hades, but one that probes and presses her, sweeping her shields and slithering around looking for a crack that it will not find.

She knows this feeling, and that grin that comes across her face is feral and delighted. Hades has given her an early anniversary present. She had hunted these creatures before the Sundering, brought them to near extinction before the ones that remained went into hiding.

He has gifted her a Mind Flayer. Not the weak descendants that can be found in Eorzea, but a true Mind Flayer of eld, which means levitation, and likely one or two mind-controlled creatures in the proximity. A  _ challenge _ , even for the part of her that is more weapon than woman.

Yes.  _ This will do nicely _ , Phoebe thinks, and with a sigh that stretches the grin further across her face, she allows the frenzy to take over.

* * *

Hades finds her hours later when the fire and fury have finally bled from her veins. She’s scraping mucous off the mind flayer’s flesh, storing it in the tiny vials she keeps attached to her belt.

She follows his eyes to the head nearby, devoid of it’s telltale tentacles, as those are already stacked in a neat pile nearby the remains of it’s corpse. She’s shaking her head and letting out a snicker when he carefully steps over the pool of its silvery-white blood to stand next to her.

His expression turns moderately disgusted when she pulls out another vial to scoop up some of the still-flowing blood from a limb. “Is nothing sacred with you about? I don’t remember you being  _ quite _ so bloodthirsty before the Sundering.” 

“You just didn’t see it,” she replies, shooting him a grin, “Mind Flayer blood has always been prized, it’s excellent for aether-restoring potions. I’ve made you consume it before.”

“You have not,” he says, taking a long swallow. 

She can’t quite make him out in the dim light, but she’s willing to bet that he’s turning a faint sheen of green.

“Do you recall how aether-drained you were after you decided to build the Hall of the Architect, but since it was the  _ first day _ of you serving as Emet-Selch, I made you those special cookies so you wouldn’t pass out?” she asks as she pops a stopper in the vial before turning to look back up at him.

“Phe, look at me and tell me you did not drug my cookies.” 

The look on Hades’ face is one of perfect betrayal, which only means that holding onto that particular secret across the ages has been worth it. While she is perfectly willing to consume nearly anything that holds still long enough, Hades has always been picky.

“ _ Yep _ ,” Phoebe replies, grin turning devilish as she holds out her hands for him to pull her up. Hades merely quirks an eyebrow in response, looking over her silver-splattered body and shakes his head.

“You’re the worst,” she says with a grumble, heaving herself off the ground, pouting. “I know very well there was something about loving me even when I was covered in monster guts in our bonding vows.”

Hades eyes narrow in response, his entire body radiating his displeasure. “You just admitted to feeding me blood cookies, excuse me if I need a moment to digest the thought.”

“You ate the whole batch when I made them, it seems like you  _ digested _ them pretty well then.”

“Look at the time, I just remembered Elidibus needs me for something, don’t think I’ll be able to bring you back to your friends just yet,” he says, opening a portal and walking through without looking back at her, letting it close as quickly as he had opened it.

Phoebe stares at the place where her husband just was for a long moment before she shrugs and grabs another vial to continue collecting the blood. With how impetuous Alisaie could be, it’ll likely be helpful to keep quite a bit of it on hand, and as a perk, it never spoils.

Besides, it makes her cookies taste extra chocolatey.

Roughly a bell later has her packing up and looking around the cave, considering. She has not actually reached the back of the cave, and  _ something _ from that direction has been beckoning her ever since she arrived.

She doesn’t entirely remember lighting a torch earlier in the haze of her rage, but given a mind flayer’s distaste of light, it seems logical that she had done it. It lights her way as she follows the bend of the cave, casting light on a slumped over body in the corner of the room.

When she runs closer, she sees that though the body is unharmed, it does not react. It’s eyes stare vacantly into the darkness, and Phoebe’s heart breaks for the fallen warrior two times over. 

The form is achingly familiar in its appearance, somehow more similar to her original body than any she has had since the Fall. The woman had been somewhere between a Roegayden in height and a Hyur in appearance, long raven hair tipped in the same gold as Hades’ eyes. 

It was what had first drawn him to her.

The poor fragment of her soul on this shard had spent the final part of her life controlled by a Mind Flayer, likely left as that mindless shell because of how long it had taken her before the Sundering to hunt the vile creatures down.

She’s still staring helplessly at the body when Hades appears from around the corner.

“You found her, I see,” he says quietly, eyes never leaving the body in front of them. He seems even more rattled by the appearance than she is, taking a long moment to compose himself.

“I did. As best as I can guess, my aether reabsorbed her when I arrived. You’ve seen how it tries to with Ardbert. Weakened as she would’ve been, she never stood a chance.”

“She had likely suffered for a long time,” he replies, finally looking over at Phoebe, “and could have rejoined with you willingly rather than live half-alive.”

“Or, after the Mind Flayer died, she would’ve recovered and now she’ll never have that chance.”

“There is always the echo,” he responds. “Perhaps Hydaelyn can answer that question for you.”

She gives him a small nod before walking over and resting her hand on the woman’s shoulder, gasping at the flood of memories flowing through her, heedless of the tears streaming from her eyes as she feels the  _ relief _ that her fragment had felt. She hadn’t absorbed her unwillingly, the warrior’s soul had  _ fled  _ to her, exhausted.

They, the warrior and her party, had come to the cave, planning to defeat the Mind Flayer, and had been immediately overwhelmed. They hadn’t known it to be one of the flayers of eld.

It could have killed them quickly, but that would’ve been too gentle a death for  _ her _ allies. Instead it had stunned them all in one quick blast to their minds, before charming them each in turn. Combined with confusion it meant that they spent the next hour slowly killing each other, the mind flayer making sure they took care to never take a blow to the head.

The warrior it saved for last. She, it kept separate, allowing her to look on as her allies butchered each other in repayment for the way the Guardian had driven them to near extinction. 

When it finally tired of the game, it made sure the warrior could watch as it sucked out the brains of her friends and only family she had really had. She, it kept enslaved, kept her as the pet at its side to kill any who came in search of the party.

Phoebe’s arrival had been a  _ blessing _ to the fragment.

Wiping the tears from her face when she turns to Hades, she tells him what she’s seen, walking over to his open arms.

“Did you know she was here?” She asks finally, pulling away from his grasp, turning to gather the bones of the warrior’s fallen allies. They deserved more than just being left to rot in this cave that had known so much pain and misery.

Hades remains in place, knowing that this is something she needs to do alone. “Not as such, no. I merely heard during a meeting that a flayer had been found here. Had I known of the piece of your shard, I would’ve found a different diversion.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. She was so  _ tired _ .”

When she finishes gathering the fallen comrades, she doesn’t need to ask before Hades snaps his fingers and the bones turn into faint flecks of his death-based aether, briefly flickering throughout the cave before disappearing.

“They can rest now,” she says, turning to look back at the warrior of this shard. Though the mind is gone, the body remains, faintly breathing.

“I can send her to the Lifestream,” Hades says when she looks at him, lost for a solution.

“Please.” Phoebe doesn’t even finish responding before Hades snaps his fingers and the body is gone.

She gives a final look around the cave to confirm that she hasn’t missed anything, eyes flitting over the picked-over remains of the mind flayer before she nods and looks at Hades, requesting the portal back to the Crystarium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lore bombs galore~~~~.
> 
> All my love to Ko & Star for bearing with me through this long bebe, it took a team.


	6. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the rating change! If you're averse to smutty times, feel free to skip on over this one. <3

She’s standing at the open window of her room in the Crystarium for a long while, staring out at the endless day. It  _ should _ be night. Instead, it’s a perpetual day that she does not know how to fix. It is infuriating and maddening, but more than that it just reminds her that there are a million things she should be doing. And yet, all she can bring herself to care for right now is the person in the room.

Hades walks over to her, wrapping his arms around her, and Phoebe reaches her arms up to cover his own, before she turns and looks up at him, questioning. After what-- no,  _ who  _ she’d seen back on that shard, she just wants him close to her.

She needs this as much as he does. Even if she can’t read it in his eyes, it’s in the grip he has when he pulls her close against him. It’s an aching need flowing between the two of them, bouncing back and forth, becoming stronger by the moment.

“Shhh,” Hades whispers, slowing her attempts to undress him as quickly as possible. He turns them, pushing her backward until they cross the room and she falls against the bed. A smirk on his face as he backs away, and begins to give her a show.

His movements are unhurried, deliberately taunting, as he places a gloved finger to his mouth, tongue flashing out as he licks the index finger of his glove, catching the tip of it between his teeth and loosening it with a tug, repeating the process with each finger. He tosses the glove over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands, eyes never leaving her own.

The process leaves her half-dazed, eager to feel those lips, teeth, and tongue on her instead, and from the hooded look in Hades’ eyes, his thoughts do not stray far from her own.

Still, he remains unhurried, even as he pulls off the remaining glove with far less of a show. He’s moving on, unbuckling his belt, leaving it to drop to the ground at his feet before his jacket and robes follow, every layer he sheds bringing him a step closer until he’s stopped, pressing against the edge of the bed, his legs spreading her own, all pale unblemished skin and golden eyes looking straight through to her soul.

He’s holding the red sash typically pinned across his chest in one hand, and Phoebe wriggles at the thoughts crossing her mind at what he could be plotting to do with it. She’s always been a fan being of tied up, but equally as delightful is the thought of  _ him _ tied up. Whatever he chooses it means that every time he looks at the sash, he’ll remember this night, remember  _ her _ .

“Come here,” he beckons, reaching out a hand to help her sit up. When she does, he takes a moment to carefully brush her short hair back, caressing the side of her face, gracing her with a rare soft smile. He raises one expressive eyebrow, holding up the sash, and the grin on Phoebe’s face in response is delighted. His smile turns devious as he gently but securely ties the sash over her eyes, and instantly her every hair stands on end.

A moment later, he is pulling her shirt over her head, careful to avoid jostling the sash, her breast bindings following soon after, the cool air hardening her nipples. He’s gently laying her down, reverently, before  _ that _ tongue, _ those _ lips,  _ those _ teeth finally are on her. He sucks one nipple into his mouth and his hand works the clasp on her pants, deftly flicking them open.

She’s touching every bit of him she can, trying to drive him to distraction as much as possible. Her hands pass over the planes of his chest, his stomach, path curving to his lower back, and she delights at the groan from him when one hand suddenly spanks him, the other soothing the divot of his hips.

When she arches to bring him closer he withdraws to pull her pants and smalls off at the same time, and she whimpers at how it pulls him away. Soon, she’s as naked as he is, but despite her questing hands he remains out of reach.

She feels the warmth of his breath before his body, hands pressing down on either side of her, lips kissing a trail from her chest up to her neck, stopping to suck long enough that she knows she’ll have a mark. He’s deliberate in his choices, swapping to the other side of her neck to reverse his actions. He bites, and bites, tongue soothing his marks, a cascade of gentle bruises for her to remember him by.

She whimpers and reaches one hand for his hair, tugging him up to her mouth so she can kiss what feels like a smug grin from his lips. He allows himself to be held there for a long moment, savoring. Phoebe trails a hand down, questing for the erection that has been pressing up against her stomach before he pulls away just as her hand grazes the smooth flesh.

“No, I don’t think I’ll be allowing that just yet,” he says, voice distant as he moves away.

He leaves her waiting in the dark a long moment before she feels his hands on her knees, pulling them farther apart as he brings her hips closer to the end of the bed. She knows she’s wet from the anticipation of what is to follow, and as Hades lets the moment stretch on she feels herself get even slicker.

It feels like bells pass before he is pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, followed by another and another, each one closer to where she desperately wants him to reach. She doesn’t have to see him to know that he’s delighted by every whine and whimper she releases, forever determined to see what new sounds he can pull from her.

When she’s impatient, hips thrusting toward his face, legs squeezing, he merely holds her down, letting out a “Tsk, tsk”, even as his mouth is still teasing everywhere but the one place that is begging for his touch. Just when it’s too much,  _ too _ slow, he gives her a long lick, tongue flicking over her clit in just the right way to send her nearly toppling over the edge.

He takes his time working her to a fever pitch, letting her get  _ oh so close _ before stopping, taking advantage of their bond to tell him when she’s about to finish. It occurs to her that she can  _ push  _ the emotions back his way as well, and it’s his groan that has a grin spreading across her face. He takes advantage of her distraction to shift their position, pulling one leg over his shoulder and sliding a finger into her, arching it to just the right spot.

“ _ Fuccckkkkk you, _ Hades,” she swears when she comes, and he flicks his tongue, swirling it slower, letting her coast down from the bliss before working her back over it again, and then again as one finger becomes two, three.

She’s boneless when he finally relents, slowly dropping her leg to the ground, reaching up the bed to untie the sash from her eyes. It lets her finally see those golden glowing eyes she loves so much, satisfied half-smirk on his face. 

She reaches to pull his weight on top of her, enjoying the delicious press of his body, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, “You’ve done soft and sweet, Darling, now  _ fuck me _ into this bed.”

“As my lady wishes,” he replies, before lining himself up to enter her in one quick motion. Her pleas of “ _ Harder _ ,” are met by him throwing both her legs over his shoulders, slamming into her in deep thrusts, even as he stretches her body to its limits, leaning down to lap at a nipple until Phoebe pulls on those white strands of hair, reveling in the taste of herself on his mouth to kiss him.

It’s not long for her when he reaches a hand between them, fingers tracing the same motions his tongue had not long ago, and when she crashes over the edge a final time, she takes him with her, walls clenching around him.

She falls flat to the bed, contentedly smiling at the face above her, long strands of his hair blocking the rest of the room from view.

“I love you,” she says, tipping up to give him a kiss on the lips, brushing his hair back and stealing another kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“And I, you,” he replies, shifting his weight off her and freeing a hand to with a snap, produce a wet cloth to clean themselves both off with. A second snap a few moments later has it disappear, even as the blankets are moved from underneath to above them.

Phoebe turns over and scoots backward until Hades curls around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, legs tangling and arms pulling her ever closer. She doesn’t sleep, not for a long while, imprinting the feel of his touches, the comfort of his arms around her just a little further to memory. He will be gone in the morning, she knows, and cherishes him just a bit longer before she falls to the siren song of rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My love is Ko & Star, thanks for not being weirded out by my entire discord channel of only chapter links.


	7. Lakeland

So much death. So much needless death. 

The path they carve through Holminster Switch is filled with fallen citizens, and for every one of them that she sees it’s harder to forgive herself for the moments she hasn’t spent dedicated to clearing this Shard of Light. She  _ knows _ rest is important. She can hear Hades, Alisaie and the rest of the Scions mentally reminding her of such, but if she had just pushed herself a little  _ harder _ , a little  _ faster _ , these people might be alive.

She knows better than to dwell on what-ifs, but still the thoughts spiral within her.

Every sin eater she kills is both a burden and a blessing. Each one was someone who had just been trying to live in this terrible world, and it pushes her to fight  _ harder  _ and  _ faster  _ each time she strikes one down. She can't fire enough to save them, can't fight as she would've before the Sundering, a whirlwind of swords and spells. Once she would've been cascading light down, its brilliant aether blinding, even as she folded between its pockets, disappearing and reappearing all around her foes, each time her swords slashing away until her foe finally fell to her attacks.

Now, all she can do is fire from a distance.

Finally, she reaches the warden. Killing it should have been a relief, but the aether it possessed lingers, hovering malevolently. She’s struck by how  _ corrupt _ it is, watching as the aether does not feed into the ground, nor crystalize as it typically would, but instead searches between her and the others alongside her. Her power over aether is still paltry compared to what it once was, but fortunately, this is  _ light _ . Light is second nature to her, even now, and it’s simple to draw the aether to her instead of the others.

It doesn’t hurt when it enters her, but she would never describe it as pleasant. She can  _ feel _ the Light push around in the pocket she’s shoved it in, wriggling and trying to seep its corruption deeper into her. 

She prays Hades can help her figure out how to cleanse it, but for now, all she can do is ignore it.

She hasn’t had time to try and absorb the small amount of Light she took of the patients in Amh Araeng either, and rapidly she realizes it was a mistake to not have taken care of it before now. She’s able to burn a fraction of the light off clearing the sky, but the vast majority of it remains.

G’raha seems so certain in her abilities that Phoebe can’t bring herself to contradict him. The people of the First, most of whom have never seen the night sky, have earned this moment of joy. She is not going to ruin it for them. She can dwell on her worries and reflections later, on her own.

When she returns to her room in the Pendants, she’s not shocked to see Ardbert there. Except for her foray through Hades’ portal to the other shard and a few personal moments, she’s felt the reaches from her aether, trying to draw him in.

“He saved that girl,” Ardbert says as he walks up behind her. She turns to look at him, before heading over to one of the plushier chairs she’d dragged into her room after the first day and curls up into it. This is likely not going to be a short conversation, and it has been a long... day? Night? 

Existence?

“He did, yes,” Phoebe says simply. The frustrated look on Ardbert’s face shows how unsatisfied he is with her answer about why Hades had saved Tesleen, and she sends a tired, but angelic smile his way in return. She’s still mildly frustrated with how he’d just walked away last time, even if she understands why.

“Why?” The ghost demands, walking over to stand in front of her in a way that would’ve been imposing if, first, he wasn’t part of her own soul and couldn’t actually harm her, and second, he wasn’t more confused than angry.

“Because he wanted to. Because he could. Because he’s not the monster you’d like to believe he is. Has he done terrible things that will haunt him for eternity? Yes, but he did those things in the interest of  _ saving _ these worlds from the one the Ascians are trying to achieve,” she hisses out. 

It was difficult to remember that Ardbert more than most had a reason to hate Hades, but it didn’t make it any easier to endure, “What he has had to do is not who he is, just as neither you nor your friends were the horrible Warriors of Light I have heard tell of here. Just as you were trying to protect, so is he.”

The last two weeks had felt unending. Since returning from Eulmore and the Shard, she has been in near-constant motion, traveling between Ahm Araeng, Kholusia, and the Crystarium, fulfilling one need or another, and she has never missed Tataru’s ability to filter through the list of requests made of the ‘Warrior of Light’ more. She hasn’t seen Hades since the morning after she’d killed the Mind Flayer, and though Alisaie is trying, she’s been unable to cheer Phoebe up, and without Thancred, there is nobody to drink her sorrows away with.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Ardbert asks gently, the change of tone throwing her momentarily off-balance.

“Of course I do. He is my  _ husband _ , and nobody alive today understands what that really means. If you abruptly lost a limb, would you miss it? That is what it is like when Hades and I are apart. He is the missing piece of me as much as I am of him.” She snorts, tone turning self-deprecating as she continues, “and I am already missing enough pieces.”

“I’m sorry,” the spirit replies, frowning down at her. “I am lucky, I suppose, in comparison. If I am truly a piece of your soul, as you claim, then I’m one of those missing pieces. Not only that, but for all of us, the pieces of you on the other shards, we bear a burden, but it is not the weight of the world like yours is, is it?”

“No. I am… so  _ tired _ ,” Phoebe replies, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“You wouldn’t give it up though, at the end of the day, would you?” Ardbert responds, looking at her forlornly.

“No,” she huffs, “and that’s the worst part. While I might not  _ like _ it all the time, it’s what calls to me. Fighting is not just something I can do, but what I am  _ meant  _ to do. For so long I’ve fought, and it’s not fair to  _ him _ , because at the end of the day to the world I’m the hero and he’s the villain.”

“Far be it from me to defend that man, but he does not strike me as the type to do something against his will. I’m also willing to bet he knew exactly who you were when he chose to bond with you. I don’t know what happened at The Sundering, but I’m guessing he understood the choices he was making.”

“Hah,” she laughs a little, “Hades is more the type to do exactly the opposite of anything you tell him, but you’re right, I was already the Guardian when we bonded.”

“There, see?” Ardbert says, turning, fading as he walks away, “you have not made him do anything. If I learned anything on my journeys, it was that you do not hold the world up on your own, not when you have friends like yours around. Something to keep in mind.”

Phoebe’s head tilts as she considers what just occurred. Had… Ardbert just tried to cheer her up?

* * *

It’s barely a day later when they find out about Minfilia. A Minfilia out there who  _ needs _ her.

She’s just a  _ child _ from their description, a child in a long line of children who have been born and left to suffer over and over as they fight the wardens and inevitably fall to them. Not entirely unlike herself, except she had a choice, and they did not volunteer for this. Knowing that she’s dragged someone else into her scheme, even unwittingly, is another tally on her long list of sins. 

One more person to beg forgiveness from.

It has her  _ itching _ to get moving. They are supposed to be rescuing Minfilia and instead she is doing pointless busywork, running around Lakeland, trying to prove herself to Lyna. It’s at odds with the slowly building fire in her veins, begging to go straight to the source of the problem. Reluctantly, Phoebe admits to herself that she is not  _ known _ here and that these people have no reason to trust her, not yet, but it doesn’t make it easier to just  _ wait _ for the plan to come to fruition.

_ Finally,  _ the sleep powder over the Eulmoran soldiers takes effect and she can move. This is why she is here,  _ this _ is what she can do, cutting through Eulmoran fighters on her path to the girl. She never feels more like  _ herself _ than when she is crashing through a wall of fighters, her bullets flying as she runs from place to place, leaving the Scions behind along the way. The satisfying sound of chains shooting from her gun, wrapping themselves around a soldier even as she spins to blast a group with noxious gas, flamethrower quickly finishing them all.

Suddenly, she’s there, Lyna shouting for her to free the girl tied up in front of them. She is so young, this oracle, this  _ Minfilia _ . Such a small oracle stands before them, and she just wants to hide the girl away, remove her from the responsibilities she knows are heavy for any such as they, let her live the childhood she should have instead. But this is not a world where she can do that, however, and so she settles for making sure she stays  _ safe _ .

Ran’jit. He is the one responsible for bringing a war to a child, and she already hates him, but it’s when he looks at Alphinaud that she  _ burns _ . He will  _ not _ touch her family. If not for Thancred leaping into the foray a moment later, providing the Exarch with the distraction he needs for them to flee the area, she is certain that not even Hades lurking nearby would stop her from unleashing her rage.

She can feel Hades’ delight as they flee, and she can’t help but realize she’s done  _ something _ to play right into his plotting hands.

* * *

They’ve been running for what feels like three bells when she realizes how different her surroundings are. She’s burned off her anger on every Eulmoran soldier between them and the path to Il Mheg, cut down a few dozen monsters lurking in the area before she realizes that she’s calmed down and she’s peacefully walking along the path.

It’s another bell until she feels like they’re a safe distance away and can really stop, but the second they do, Phoebe is leaping towardThancred, intent on squeezing the hyur man as tight as she can. She ignores the ‘Oof’, that sounds from him as she flies into the arm that just barely flings open in time to catch her, but he hugs her back after a moment of struggling to put his sword away.

“I’m so glad you’re ok!” she beams, looking him over from top to bottom to confirm she hasn’t missed anything. He’s not wearing his bandana, which is different, but something she’s proud of him for doing. Her own eyes are slightly different shades, and she’d been prodding him to accept the change back on the Source. She was glad he’d finally let go of his pride in lieu of having the use of both eyes.

She’s  _ missed _ him. As much as Alphinaud is practically her younger brother, Thancred is the older brother she never knew she needed. The Scions are more than just allies to her, they are her  _ family _ , something she never thought to feel again after the Sundering. She hadn’t really  _ let _ herself get attached to anyone. Thancred is the one who she knows will tell her the truth, even if she doesn’t want to hear it. Just the same, he’s also the one who will help her drown her sorrows and badly sing tavern songs if it means she relaxes  _ just a little _ .

“Hello, ‘Bee,” he replies, giving her a smile, eyes looking at her briefly before they shift to scan the distance behind her.

Her smile drops a bit when she remembers just  _ how _ long it has been for him, “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.”

“Nonsense,” Thancred begins, looking down at her again, seeming to  _ see _ her for the first time since they’d run into each other, “it was out of your hands.”

“Still. Five years is a long time, and you  _ will _ tell me more about that later and how you came to be at the right place at  _ just _ the right time, but firrsssttt,” She says, turning to take in the young girl staring at them both with wide eyes, “tell me about yourself Minfilia!”

She turns, beginning to stroll in the direction they had been heading in before she’d ambushed Thancred, now walking alongside Minfilia, watching her from the side of her eyes. The twins shift to walk in front of them, even as Thancred raises an eyebrow and gives her a look that screams “be nice,” before taking up the rear.

Blown wide blue eyes are watching her in return when she turns to give the girl her full attention.

“I… I’m Minfilia? I- Thancred found me and rescued me?”

“Well, yes, I know that, but I mean tell me about yourself, what’s your favorite food, what do you do for fun, what do you do when Thancred snores at night,”

“Oi! I do not snore!” She hears being claimed from the man behind her, and she sees the first crack of a smile from Minfilia when she turns to stick her tongue out at him in response. It becomes a full giggle when she leans over to whisper, “he does, doesn’t he? I had to swap rooms with Alisaie back on the Source. She can sleep through  _ anything, _ the first time I met her I saw her sleep through arrows literally embedding themselves into our cart, so Thancred sawing logs is nothing.”

Laughing even as she hears Alphinaud and Alisaie debate if Alphinaud had  _ also _ slept through the moment, she continues, “but really, tell me about yourself. Or would you like me to go first?” she asks, waving a hand and gesturing to herself.

“That would be great! Really, Thancred has told me so much about you, that I feel like I know you a bit, but-” Minfilia pauses, momentarily bewildered at the delighted if slightly devilish look that has overtaken Phoebe’s face.

“ _ Thancred, _ ” she calls, putting her hands behind her head as she turns to walk backward, keeping pace with Minfilia all the while, “you’ve been talking about me! Minfilia, you’ll have to tell me what he’s been telling you!”

She practically cackles when Thancred sends a glare to Minfilia in response, before his expression turns wicked, and she doesn’t have enough time to be suspicious before she trips over a root in the ground, nearly falling before she’s able to turn it into a tumble.

Shaking off Minfilia’s horrified gasp, she bounds back up, hand furthest from Minfilia shooting Thancred a vulgar gesture, which just earns her a loud snort in response from behind her.

“Excuse me, yes, you wanted to know about me. Well!” She says, stumbling for a second as she tried to remember what story belonged to this life, all her lives blurring together before she gives up and just skips the beginning. Everything before meeting the twins is a blur, and besides that, is hardly interesting anyway.

“I am rather good at fighting things if I do say so myself,” she begins, waggling her eyebrows at the girl to draw out another giggle, “and my favorite hobby is reading, but I also really enjoy alchemy.”

“Oh, alchemy sounds interesting,” Minfilia says, and she sends the girl a softer smile in response.

“Next time we’re at the Crystarium, I’d be happy to show you. I could always use another set of hands. Forewarning though, it’s a pretty messy business, Alphinaud always refuses to help and I have to track down Alisaie for assistance.”

“It’s… not entirely pleasant,” Alphinaud throws back to Minfilia with a small frown on his face, but it’s when Alisaie turns to visibly roll her eyes at her twin in response that Minfilia giggles again.

She doesn’t realize they’re walking in circles, distracted in her results of making Minfilia laugh as much as she can. She feels the ever-growing amusement coming from the other side of the bond, Hades’ mild amusement paving way to full-blown delight causing her to pause and realize they’ve passed the same shoebill multiple times.

“Thancred,” she says, stopping and frowning at him behind her, “are we  _ lost _ ?”

The moment she asks the question, she hears giggling come from all around her.

“No, there will be none of that,” she hears a familiar voice call, even as she spins around trying to find the source of the voice. 

There’s a familiar laugh, likely at her antics, and cries of frustration surround the group before the glamour fades, revealing rolling hills, giant puffed trees, and dozens of pixies, but more significantly she’s able to lay eyes on another wayward Scion.

“‘Shtola!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaat... Y'shtola.. but she's supposed to be.........
> 
> IS SHE THO? <3


	8. Il Mheg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this, have we reached something like a weekly Saturday posting schedule? Possibly! :D

“Phoebe. I’m glad to see the Exarch finally managed to summon the right Scion,” Y’shtola says, bitter words balanced out by the smile on her face as Phoebe throws herself at the mage, who accepts the hug with the ease of someone who has suffered such attacks before. 

She may or may not have spent time trying to sneak up on Y’shtola back at the Rising Stones. Trying, and mostly failing, to conceal her aether from being seen by the mage. While she had not yet succeeded in doing so, it did mean that Y’shtola had become moderately immune to leaping hug attacks.

“‘Shtola, I thought the Exarch said you were in Rak’tika!”

“I was going to, but after I left, I met with Thancred who thought my talents to be more necessary here. The pixies can hardly glamour someone who can not see their tricks after all, and they seem to find me boring as a result.”

“That sounds about right,” she replies, finally stepping back from her fellow Miqo’te. Y’shtola looks different,  _ stronger _ , perhaps, and it soothes the part of herself that had been worrying since the mage had fallen. Y’shtola’s years on the First seemed to have benefitted her, allowing her to settle into herself in a way she hadn’t been since entering the Flow.

“Well, pleased as I am to see you, what in particular brings you to Il Mheg?” Y’shtola asks, looking between the Scions, lingering on Phoebe for longer, head tilting as she considers the group.

“We’re running from the Eulmorans. I’m not quite sure how it came to be, but Minfilia here,” she says, pulling the blushing girl over to her side, “was separated from Thancred and had been captured by the Eulmoran army. We, fortunately, arrived in time to rescue her, but you know how trouble likes to follow me.”

Looking down at Minfilia, she asked, “How  _ did _ you get separated, anyway?”

“I… sensed something. You, I think…” Minfilia mumbles quietly, eyes darting to Thancred and back away again.

“As pleased as I am to meet you,” she replies, locking eyes with Thancred momentarily and shaking her head at the anger she can see rising there, “next time, perhaps wait for your guardian before running off on your own? I can hardly imagine Thancred would have said no.”

“I- I’m sorry. Thank you for saving me,” the girl replies, head bowing.

Around her, she can hear the tittering of pixies, tsking at the scolding the girl is getting, and it reminds her of their audience.

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Phoebe replies, glaring at the pixie-filled air around them, pulling the girl closer to her, “we all make mistakes. The important thing is that you are safe, for now.”

She’s trying to give Minfilia her best ‘reassuring’ look, and it seems to cheer the girl up, if only marginally.

“‘Shtola, a man named Ran’jit is likely following us, he is incredibly dangerous, and…” she pauses, considering the ears surrounding them, before shrugging it off and continuing, “we’re also here for the Light Warden.”

“Oh?” Y’shtola asks, her silver eyes focusing on Phoebe again, “You’ll need to gain the favor of the pixies first in order to do that. While you do that, I’ll head back to my home and make ready for your arrival.”

“Yes, yes! Play with us!” A dozen tiny voices call from all sides.

She resists glaring at Y’shtola, who had long before discovered Phoebe’s inability to say  _ no _ when she is asked for help, instead cracking her knuckles and spinning to the closest pixie to ask what she can do.

Bells later, exhausted, she’s hiding away in the vast fields surrounding the pixie village. She snuck away after doing a handful of chores, grateful for the loophole in her compulsion that says she can avoid pleas for help that are not  _ honest _ . While not exactly a lie detector, the lack of a sudden  _ need _ to help following a request helps to snuff out people and creatures wasting her time or trying to harm her.

She’ll do what’s necessary to win over the pixies, but she’s tired of running in circles and if she’s learned anything from her wayward husband, it’s when a good time for a nap has arrived. The long grass and looming flowers are providing excellent coverage from her being seen by her fellow Scions or Minfilia.

There’s a shoebill that has been watching her from a nearby hedge-man, and she’s taken to idly throwing flowers at it, enjoying the glare it sends her way in return, nevermind that as a  _ bird _ it should not be able to glare. It had taken her  _ far _ too long to realize the bird was her husband, but now she’s unwilling to give up the game of his disguise before he does.

“Have you developed a sudden hatred for birds since we last met, Phoebe? Even if that particular one is a bit… strange,” the voice comes from above her, and she has to shade her eyes from the light before she can actually see the mage.

“No, just that one,” she replies, waving a hand at Y’shtola in an attempt to get her to sit down instead of continuing to loom over her.

Y’shtola eyes the land surrounding her before shaking her head and joining Phoebe on the ground.

“Your aether has changed.”

“Why yes, hello Y’shtola, I’ve been very well, thank you for asking.”

“Phoebe.”

“Fine. Yes. I… I’ve absorbed the Light from a warden, and possibly also some from the Inn patients,” she smiled sheepishly at Y’shtola.

“You’re leaving something out,” the Miqo’te replies, eyes seeing straight through her as they ever had when Phoebe tried to avoid telling her something.

“My aether has gotten stronger since I got here. I’m having an easier time controlling it than I did back on the Source.”

The truth, just perhaps not all of it.

“Hmm,” the mage replies, pale silver eyes considering, “I’d have expected the Light you’ve consumed to have damaged your soul, but it seems as if you have it well in hand for now.”

“That’s a relief to hear, as it didn’t feel the greatest going down,” Phoebe replies jokingly while throwing another flower at her husband shoebill, leading Y’shtola to turn and consider the bird again.

“I wonder if perhaps the pixies enchanted that one from a man. I’ve sensed it often enough since arriving here, but it has never stayed in one place for me as it seems to be doing with you. It’s odd though, that one seems to have an abundance of aether coiled within it.”

“Yes, it is  _ odd _ , isn’t it,” she replies, throwing yet another flower at it.

Sending one last glare her way, the shoebill finally fluffed its feathers launching itself off with a slow swoop, coming perilously close to her face, fluttering higher when her hands came up to defend herself, before flying to a slightly further hedge-man and returning to glaring at them both.

“It’s a menace is what it is,” she replies, briefly glaring back at the bird in return, eyes flitting over to Y’shtola in consideration.

“I thought you were heading back to your home?”

“I did, but as the bells passed and I saw no sign of your arrival, I realized it was likely the pixies had decided to play yet another trick. I ran into Thancred and he bid me to see if I could determine ‘what hill you’d taken to hiding behind’.”

She sent Y’shtola a sheepish grin in response, “It has been more than five years for him since I last slacked off while he did all the work, I thought I was due a break.”

Y’shtola laughed, shaking her head before replying, “Be that as it may, at this rate the pixies are likely to wear out even Alphinaud’s unending patience. ‘Tis unlikely that they will let you all go as simply as they did me.”

“What if,” Phoebe began, nose wrinkling, “I told you I’d entered a pact with a pixie already and that she might be able to help?”

“I’d say I was surprised, but having known you for as long as I have, I find that I’m merely curious. How did this happen?”

She fills Y’shtola in as she reluctantly gets up from the ground, brushing wayward petals from her clothing, briefly frowning at the grass stain she seemed to have gotten while fending off a certain shoebill.

The look Thancred sends her when they arrive after walking back into the pixie village is as equally unsurprised as Y’shtolas had been moments before, but reluctant relief crosses his face when she explains how she might be able to help. The twins and Minfilia return shortly after, and she sends them her best ‘wish me luck’ look before calling out for Feo Ul.

The Exarch had introduced her to the fiery pixie at the Crystarium, and the two of them had taken to each other immediately. Feo Ul scolds her for not calling for her sooner, and Phoebe truly regrets that she hadn’t taken the time to talk to the fae for longer than their initial meeting. She’s lucky that the Madbloom negotiates on their behalf that all she’s had to give up is the twins, temporarily, to win them over. 

She’s not exactly  _ thrilled _ with letting them out of her sight, but Y’shtola wouldn’t have allowed it if she’d felt they’d be in any real danger. She hugs them both at the same time, Alisaie willingly, Alphinaud somewhat begrudgingly, but the last time she’d let him out of her sight, was when he was returned  _ without his soul _ , he could suffer through another hug.

By the time they reach Y’shtola’s home, she is prepared for all manner of pranks and tricks, but nothing could have prepared her for her husband’s slow stroll down the staircase, acting for all the world like he owns the place.

“Why hello there. Y’shtola, you didn’t mention you were bringing guests by,” he drawls, looking over the group as if she had merely brought over some friends for tea and he was upset that they hadn’t picked up beforehand.

“This is what I wanted to discuss with you all,” the mage replies, briskly walking ahead of the group, entirely unconcerned with the Ascian in her home, “this is Emet-Selch,  _ Ascian _ , and he has been instrumental in aiding my research here.  _ Suspiciously _ helpful, but entirely harmless thus far.

Her husband has the gall to  _ bow _ at Y’shtola’s introduction as he comes to stand in front of them, a smug smile crossing his face.

“You left off that I am also Solus vos Galvus, architect and emperor of Garlemald and several other imperially inclined nations. But whyever would I not wish to help? All this light has been  _ so _ bad for my complexion after all, and do you have any idea how difficult it makes it to find a convenient place to  _ nap _ ? I practically have bags under the bags under my eyes, and that is not a look befitting of an Emperor.”

Thancred looks nearly ready to combust when Phoebe dares to look over at him. He knows about the existence of Hades, but they had never actually crossed paths or been introduced as Alisaie had. He’s half shoved Ryne behind him, who is curiously looking over from around his side at her husband.

She’s not actually sure  _ what _ she should be doing, and the feeling leaves her entirely caught off guard.  _ This _ was clearly why he had been so delighted when they had been fleeing into Il Mheg.

“Yes, he claims he has no desire for this shard to be tipped to light, though he has never given me a proper reason  _ why, _ just those types of flimsy excuses.”

“I  _ told _ you why, you just didn’t believe me,” he says in response to the mage, raising an eyebrow he must know she can’t see anyway.

“You  _ claimed _ that you find the method boring and that you are eager to try  _ something new _ , so pardon me if I do not exactly trust your motives just yet.”

“I have only the most innocent of motives, I assure you.”

“Why should we believe you?” Phoebe asks, finally shaking off enough of her stupor to recall that this is typically where the  _ Warrior of Light _ would push back.

“Because my Dear Warrior, I have no desire to lie to you, and even if I wanted to, it is simply not possible for me to do so.”

“Are you saying you  _ cannot _ tell a lie?” Thancred demands, eyes slowly trailing from Phoebe to Hades and back again.

“No. Such as I could  _ not _ tell you that I am sorry that Lahabrea once possessed you because that would be simply untrue.”

She was lucky that Thancred was so indignant at Hades’ statement that he missed the half-laugh she let out, however, an ear on Y’shtola’s head flicked in her direction at the sound, leaving her to mentally scold herself.

“But you  _ did _ just say that,” a quiet voice replied, having slowly slunk out from behind Thancred.

He visibly leaned sideways to see around the gunbreaker when Thancred reached to pull her behind him once more to reply, “No, I said I  _ couldn’t _ say that, which is the truth.”

It was the kind of double-speak he’d perfected over the millennia of double-crossing, and Phoebe had long grown used to hearing from him, half-riddles that left her chasing the truth between his straight answers and the ones he avoided saying. The two of them had spent many long nights working out the particular quirks to the burdens they had been left with as a result of their roles on the Convocation. 

This particular time she had the fortune of knowing the true reason behind his response, aside from the fact that he seemed to be enjoying riling the gunbreaker up. Lahabrea’s possession of Thancred had ultimately led to Lahabrea’s  _ defeat _ , and his defeat meant they were one step closer to stopping Zodiark once and for all.

“You are aware that that does not make him any more inclined to trust you?” Y’shtola asked, frowning.

“Very well, I shall endeavor to  _ play nice _ with your companions,” he replied, an innocent smile coming across his face, “as I would hardly want to make an enemy of the Warriors of Darkness, after all. Not when there’s King Titania to consider defeating and a convenient method of disposing of that pesky Light after.”

Rolling her eyes, she asked, “Glad to be of service, I suppose. But just who is King Titania?” 

“The mad King of the Fae, of course. The faeries have rather inconsiderately locked her away in Lydha Lran, and have seemed rather disinclined to allow me access to her.”

“I believe they threatened to turn you into a hedge actually,” Y’shtola replies with a snicker.

“I’m sorry,” Thancred interrupts, pointing between Y’shtola and Hades, “but what exactly is going on here? Since when do we  _ work _ with Ascians, even one who claims to be telling the truth?”

“If you doubt my inclinations, be my guest, try and trap me in a lie. I will give you one answer, no tricks.” Hades says, giving a small bow.

Thancred sends her a considering glance, ignoring her widened eyes and the slight shake of her head before he turns back to Hades, asking, “Do you intend any harm to come to the Warrior of Light as a result of your actions?”

Hades frowns, and she feels a flow of reassurance come across the bond as he replies, “Yes. I do.”

She nearly misses the flick of Y’shtola looking between Hades and herself, the Miqo’te tilting her head to consider, hand knocking against the side of her chin in thought, “But you do not  _ want _ to harm her, do you?”

His face impassive as he replies, “That is  _ two _ questions, and I do believe I agreed to answer one.”

The mage smiles at him in response, “I think I find the lack of an answer to be sufficient in this case, thank you. Thancred, Minfilia, it is delightful to see you again. Your rooms should be just as you left them, assuming Emet-Selch has not done something to them while I was away.”

Thancred protests, ignoring the clear dismissal. He does send Minfilia on ahead of him, sternly asking her to refill his aether bullets, only softening it to a request at Phoebe’s squinting glare. She pauses to thank Minfilia for all her help with the pixie’s, the blushing and mildly protesting girl practically fleeing the room.

“I think I’d prefer to stay for this conversation, after all, I have an idea of what you are intending to ask.”

“Very well then. Emet-Selch,” Y’shtola asks, pale eyes leveled straight at him, “why does Phoebe have a portion of your aether, and you hers in return?”

He shrugs his shoulders in exaggerated exasperation, replying, “You all  _ truly _ do not know how to count past one, do you? Do you just hold up your fingers and go one, one, one, one, one? How far civilization has fallen. Why at least in Garlemald we  _ educate _ our children.”

“You also murder thousands of people just trying to live their lives in the name of uniting your  _ empire,  _ an Empire set to kill even more by unleashing Black Rose upon Eorzea,” Thancred hissed in response.

“That reminds me,” Y’shtola says, “Emet-Selch told me the most curious thing. It appears we have understood astral and umbral incorrectly on the Source for years. That we should be considering umbral  _ light _ and astral  _ darkness _ .”

“Yes, it has been rather amusing watching you all fumble around, though I did decide it was time to condescend to explain the inaccuracies you had been working with. The first of which being that the substance called ‘Black Rose’ is essentially  _ light _ , a  _ passive _ aether. Passive enough to cause your forms to simply stop living.”

“That’s… not good,” she replies, frowning back at him, for all the world pretending as if this was news to her. Hades had satisfactorily distracted Y’shtola for now, but if she knew the woman as well as she believed she did, it wouldn’t last for long.

“No, given that you all seem determined to continue living despite all our attempts to end you, I suppose it would not be. Now, the first step to preventing that from happening would be to slay the Light Warden. To do that, you must acquire four items….”

She somewhat tuned out as Hades began his explanation. Blah, blah something about collecting items to impress the pixies, which she  _ thought _ they had already done, but apparently she hadn’t, but since she did wants her twins back, she wanders around collecting the necessary items, dragging Thancred with her, insisting he fill her in on the past five years. despite his protests that he had his  _ own _ items to gather.

When her Echo triggers at his explanation of what had happened with the original Minfilia, she can’t help but feel for him, even as it causes her to become even more fiercely protective of the young girl that had fallen into his charge. She cared for Minfilia, the Scion she had known, but she was  _ gone _ , and Thancred needed to accept that. She hoped he  _ was _ accepting that, even as she doubted he was doing as much just yet.

His silence at her question about what he wanted to happen when their young Minfilia made her choice was all the answer she needed. Her frown as they return to Y’shtola’s home quickly turns amused at his charge’s excited proclamation that Y’shtola had helped her choose a book from her collection to bring with them.

So young. So innocent. She  _ would _ protect that, for as long as she was able. She would give Minfilia as much of the life as she should’ve had without being the Oracle as possible, and if she had to go through Thancred to ensure as much, she would do it. Somehow, she thought, looking between the two as Thancred patted Minfilia on the head, thanking her for his bullets and asking her if she’d finished packing for the journey, she didn’t think it would be necessary.

“Well? Tick tock, I will be here waiting for your return,” Hades says, one foot lightly tapping on the floor from his position leaned against a bookshelf.

“Not coming with us then? Is the mighty Emperor Solus zos Galvus too  _ old _ for such journeys?”

She snarks at him in response before she can even really consider it, but how many times had he said nearly the exact same thing before the Sundering?

“Tick Tock, Phe, the longer you put off leaving, the longer it is before you’re home again.”

His words had been softer then, less snarky, more of a plea for her to complete her task as quickly as possible and return to him. Her work had constantly taken her out of the city, and for someone such as him who rarely left, it hadn’t been easy. She’d always teased him in response about being tired, or lazy, or just, as she’d said today, too  _ old _ for such things, despite the fact that they were born in the same century.

When he simply replies, “Yes,” she does resist the urge to tackle him, finally remembering that Y’shtola and Minfilia are also watching, so she settles for rolling her eyes and walking off to retrieve the twins and the first item they need to enter the castle.

Their journey through Dohn Mheg does not exactly go off without a hitch. Thancred and the twins accompany her, Ryne left under Y’shtola’s careful watch as they are led through the wonderland of illusions the Fuath create. She’s briefly made to recall what it’s like to be a frog again, having been transfigured into one once before, and still finds herself to not be a fan, even if she’s not being chased by a chicken this time. Still, it goes better than Alphinaud’s attempts to balance his way across the beam splitting the room.

Their mission is ultimately successful, but mildly disastrous, what with the Fuath’s attempts to  _ keep _ her, as they claim the crown. She opens her eyes to Ardbert and his pleas for her to wake up, the shade of herself being made to reflect on the fallen kingdom surrounding them under the water. It’s a feeling she’s lived through so  _ many _ times, none more painful than the fall of Amaurot. His words to her beneath the water still ringing in her ears, when she clumsily begins to climb out of the lake. 

The first thing she sees is Alisaie frantically clutching a soaking wet shoebill. 

When she starts to laugh, she’s not entirely sure if it’s because she finds the situation so amusing, or if she’s just so broken inside that her soul does not know how to process the complex array of feelings she’s going through. The sight before her is exactly the reminder she needs of why she continues to fight. 

For Hades, who has been by her side through the rise and fall of more Kingdoms than most knew existed, and for Alisaie, who is willing to somehow wrangle a bird, and to assure it that Phoebe can not be drowned, despite likely knowing that if the other Scions see, they’ll think the pixies have tricked her.

She’d told Alisaie about his lurking while they ’d walked through Dohn Mheg, and she could hazard a guess the red mage has figured out he had been the shoebill they’d passed so often. The hand not clutching the bird to her chest is pointing toward where Phoebe has paused, hand clutching her side as she keeps laughing. In thank you, poor Alisaie receives a wet wing slapped to her face as the shoebill form of her husband finally escapes her grasp, flying to a perch nearby, beginning to preen the water from its feathers, glare firmly settled on its face.

She fumbles across the bond, trying to tell Hades that she’s ok even as she gasps between cackles to the group and assures them that she’s fine. She feels Y’shtola’s spell overtake her in an attempt to cure her of whatever lingering enchantment remains on her, and it’s the distraction she needs to finally stop laughing and finish walking her way out of the Lake.

She barely finishes wringing the water from her clothes when the pixie flies up, informing them of Eulmore’s approaching armies, collecting the twins once more in exchange for providing the time they need to collect the remaining two items.

She’s fortunate that collecting the items from the Nhu Mou and Amaro goes simply enough, and it is naturally the exact moment she receives the last relic that a pixie approaches once more, informing them that time is running out. She  _ hates _ Y’shtola’s idea to split up and use themselves as sacrifices to stall the army if need be, even as she reluctantly agrees to the plan.

Titania is different than the Light Warden that preceded her, and all the more terrifying for it. The King is still there, inside the warden, and it pains her to need to kill a creature the pixies had described as fair and just. The fight is not an easy one, leaving her to lean on as many of her varied talents as she can. One moment swapping between sword and shield to resist the former fae King’s massive light attacks, the next burning away vines with her stave, before finally swapping back to her beloved gun, ranged attacks allowing her to easily take down King Titania’s additional allies.

In the end, she is bleeding and exhausted, but triumphant. Phoebe’s struck again by just how wrong the Light feels here, that there is something decidedly not right with it as she consumes it, shoving it down into that same ever-expanding corner she’s been studiously ignoring. 

Feo Ul appears at her side, looking at the items now floating above them as well before turning to consider her, “To live forever… I would say it is not meant for your kind, but that is not entirely accurate to say, is it my adorable sapling? It is not this kind of immortality that is meant for you, despite the temptation it might be for your [Architect]. No, I will accept these blessings in your stead, [Guardian]. To strive for this dream you have but to never see it to completion is not for one such as you.”

It strikes her that is feels right for Titania to have become the new King, that the Madbloom seemed to immediately settle into the role with the same delight that Phoebe feels each life when she is first reminded how to fight. The Fae of Il Mheg immediate respond to the new King’s call and watching as they tear apart the Eulmorean armies is the best thing she has seen in ages.

Ran’jit and his armies flee, and in oh-so-convenient timing, Hades strolls up to the group, daring to yawn and stretch as if he’s just woken from a long nap. Knowing Hades, he actually had been sleeping while she’d fought the former King, and for once the glare she sends his way is genuine. It shocks her very little when he just smirks at her in response before turning to address the group.

“All done, are we? Well then, let’s be on our way, I imagine you’ll be in rush to confirm the state of your Crystarium, what with Eulmore’s armies and all.”

“And you intend to join us now, is that it?” Thancred barks at him, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“But of course, how else am I to determine just how far man has come? Come now, it’s not as if I will not be providing anything in return, my knowledge and strength are at your disposal. You have my full cooperation.”

Thancred huffs, looking between Y’shtola and herself, the both of them shrugging to each other even as the man lets out a long sigh, turning to walk away, grumbling the entire time.

“Phoebe?” Alphinaud asks, looking at Hades and then back at herself.

“Ah, right. You haven’t been introduced. Come on, Y’shtola and I can explain everything to you and Alisaie on the way.”

“Fine, leave me to twiddle my thumbs. Millennia of knowledge and not a single person to converse with.” Hades replies, slinking along in the back of the group as they turn to follow Thancred.

Y’shtola pauses to level a look at her husband, “If you’d prefer, I could remind you that you’ve yet to answer my question from earlier.”

“On second thought, I’ll meet you there. Walking is so tiring after all, and I just got my beauty sleep,” Hades says, opening a portal and stepping through.

Phoebe glares at where the portal had just closed, moderately dumbfounded. “He does realize he could’ve taken us all through the portal and saved us nearly a day's walk, doesn’t he?”

“Something tells me he does, and just doesn’t care. Besides, I doubt Thancred would’ve agreed to it regardless. Now, care to fill us in on just when we became allies with an Ascian?” Alisaie replies, waving at Thancred that yes they are coming. Alphinaud nods in agreement to Alisaie’s question as the quartet starts walking back to the Crystarium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Ko for the beta on this one. Thanks for making me write another 1k words on a chapter that was already monstrous. :P
> 
> Thanks to you all for reading! Your kudos and comments are the best feeling, and it makes writing so much more enjoyable.


	9. Baelsar's Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going BACK IN TIME~ for this one! :D

** _Baelsar's Wall, Eorzea, The Source_**

Hades watches from the shadows as Papalymo pulls out Tupsimati. Above them, the primal begins to form, white light nearly blinding in intensity. Turning his eyes to the diminutive form of the lalafel, it’s clear that while his aether is abundant, it will never be enough to contain a primal formed with the power of Nidhogg’s eyes. He must know that it’s futile, that at best all he will be able to do is buy the group time for Omega to be found.

A waste of a perfectly good life.

More than that, Phe still has need of him, Hades realizes. The wisdom that he brings to their group cannot be easily replaced. The lalafel also happens to be a fragment of the closest thing she’s ever had to a father-figure, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. He watches as Thancred throws Yda over his shoulder, his own foolish wife hesitating as damnable loyalty holds her in place when she should _ leave _, before the lalafell blasts her onto the airship safely away from harm.

Papalymo is so fixated on the choice he has made as he begins to cast the spell, he doesn’t notice him, not at first. Dispelling the shadows concealing his form, he reaches out a hand to contribute. As one of just two paragons of Amaurot remaining, his abundance of aether is sufficient to tip the scales from death to life for the Scion.

When the lalafel eventually notices the additional source of aether, he turns with a startled look on his face, glowing staves briefly flickering around the forming primal even as Hades pours more of himself into the casting to stabilize it.

“We can discuss the matter of _ why _ I am aiding you, or we can jointly cast this spell and you will _ not _ die. I find myself partial to the latter, though I leave the decision ultimately up to you.”

Papalymo nods his head tentatively, entire being radiating suspicion, and Hades redoubles his own aether, grunting as the spell rips at his reserves. He doesn’t need it to work, not _ completely _, for that would draw too many questions, but the shield is greedy for aether, unhesitant to draw out every drop of magic from those casting it.

They are both too exhausted to do more than watch as the spell succeeds, forming a seal around the primal.

But it does not last. Soon, _ too soon _ after, the circle surrounding the nascent primal breaks, draconic form bursting free. Moments later dozens of missiles appear in the sky from what can only be Omega. Hades has scarcely enough time to throw up a shield, covering them both from the resulting explosions. 

Aether spent, it’s nowhere near enough to fully protect them from the fighting that lights the sky above them. When the primal’s tidal wave crashes down, they are both sent flying, Hades’ shields flickering before dissipating.

The wave throws him into the wall hard enough that he blacks out.

He wakes when voices approach the area, digging through the rubble for survivors. He’s fortunate to not have been buried in the wreckage, but this vessel has several broken ribs from the wave’s impact. He stumbles toward the portal he rips open, inelegant but with as much speed as he can muster. At the last moment, his eyes catch on Papalymo’s, who had landed nearby. He seems pained but alive, and Hades tips his head at him before he practically falls through the portal.

A spare vessel is acquired from his collection in Garlemald. It is fortunate that when he encounters Elidibus shortly after on the moon, he can complain about the presence of all that _ exhausting _ Light on the First as the reason for his fatigue. The Emissary gives Hades a small smile, wishing him a speedy recovery before disappearing through a portal.

Hades opens his own back to the Source, his excuses now made, and is intent on taking a prolonged nap. Papalymo’s memories of him are a loose end he’ll have to wrap up later.

* * *

Papalymo is lying on a cot when the Ascian finds him next. It being evening, the ramshackle clinic is quiet, save for the occasional shout from one chiurgeon to another. Fortune finds him in his own room, likely due to his position as a Scion. His allies are nowhere to be found when _ he _makes his entrance, and Papalymo is struck by the fact that it is not by accident.

A long moment passes before his curiosity outweighs his desire to assess the Ascian.

“Why?” He asks him, fully aware that while he is likely not here to kill him, it does not mean he is safe. Not that there is much he could do about it, either way. He’s unable to do so much as light a candle at the moment, let alone fight off an Ascian.

“Because she still needs you,” the Ascian replies with a shrug as if that should explain everything. He is _ exhausted _ in appearance, as drained as Papalymo feels, and it strikes him that it was no small risk he must have taken in order to aid him.

“You mean the warrior - Phoebe?” Papalymo asks, though the answer is obvious once he really considers it.

Logically there is only one person who he would’ve done it for. The Ascians certainly harbor no love for the rest of the Scions, but their fascination with the Warrior of Light has always been _ different _ . Lahabrea had been practically mad, but when Phoebe was present he seemed more _ there. _ While they are all fanatical in trying to defeat her, all those they encountered seemed slightly _ better _ in her presence.

“My wife,” he replies, for once leaving Papalymo briefly stunned.

Soon, like toppling dominoes, moment after moment clicks into place. Phoebe has ever caught onto their explanations quickly, rarely asking questions and seemingly content to remain silent while they discuss the world around her before she goes off to perform feats that seem impossible. It explains why she has always been sad while others celebrated their victories over the Ascians.

“She’s like you,” Papalymo says, though the sentence feels wrong, even as it leaves his mouth. The Ascian smirks, briefly watching as his thoughts race. No, though Phoebe is astounding and capable of victories as no other has been, at the end of the day she is _ mortal _ and the Ascians are not.

“Our warrior is many things,” the man responds, fingers trailing along the frame of the cot as he walks around the edge, “but quite unlike any other. Now, while I am happy to oblige this series of questions, the end result will be the same.”

“And what result will that be?”

The Ascian holds up a vial of dark purplish liquid. “This is Lethe, and once you consume it, you will be made to forget my existence. You will remember nothing past the moment where you pulled out the staff, intent on giving up your life to protect others, and then waking up here.”

The alternative for Papalymo’s refusal to drink the liquid is clear enough, though it is not one he ever seriously considers.

“You will answer my questions first?” he asks, reaching for the vial. Despite quirking his eyebrow, the Ascian drops the potion into his outstretched hand.

“Yes, though tis a waste of our time. Fortunately for you, I am the type to indulge,” the Ascian slouches into a corner out of view of the door, and Papalymo notices the way he casts a shadow, despite also blending into them.

“You have a shadow.”

“Yes, I do. That is because I am unlike the other Ascians, in that I am not one at all. While it is a simple matter to conceal it,” he says, snapping his fingers and the shadow momentarily disappears before reappearing again a few seconds later, “I find myself tired, and the illusion is hardly worth the effort.”

“How?”

“That is a rather lengthy question that I do not believe I will have the time to fully answer,” the Ascian - no, man, responds, head quirking to the side for a moment. “Suffice to say, your warrior is my wife, and has been for nearly ten millennia, and when you find someone like her, someone you find to be the other half of your soul and she says that this plan that is forming is _ wrong? _ You listen.”

Papalymo considers the response, and though his mind is racing with question after question, he knows his time is limited. Already, he can hear Lyse (no, Yda, he thinks to himself) in the distance, arguing with Thancred about which room the chiurgeons had said he could be found in.

“Who _ are _ you?” he asks, intent on asking this final question.

“I am Emet-Selch. To elaborate - once upon a time, our Warrior considered you and many others in your merry little band to be her family, and thus you are also my own.”

Papalymo can do little but stare at the man calling himself to be “family” in disbelief. He can hear the loud footsteps of the Warrior’s massive boots walking down the hall and shakes his head to dispel the thousand more questions that have leapt forward.

“Thank you,” he says, hands pulling the stopper from the vial in his hands as Hades pushes himself off the wall.

“Your thanks are not needed. I did it for her, after all,” he replies.

The response is the truth, but not all of it. It can’t be, not after what he’d just said.

“Tis not the only reason,” Papalymo replies, tilting the liquid into his mouth and swallowing it in one gulp, “or else you would not have answered my questions at all.”

Emet-Selch sends him a considering look, before his eyes snap over toward the door. Papalymo is overcome by the need to sleep as the potion begins to take hold. He’s able to fight it off for a few moments longer, and sees Phoebe walk in the door. Somehow everything about the man _ shifts _, his entire being seeming to exhale even as he opens a portal. 

The brief look Emet-Selch exchanges with Phoebe is fond, and bitterly longing. She looks over at him, and back again to her husband, shaking her head, smiling and thanking him quietly. She waits a breath after he walks through, staring at where the portal has closed before leaning out to the hallway to beckon for Yda and Thancred.

By the time Yda barrels into the room, all thoughts of Emet-Selch are gone, and Papalymo has given up resisting sleep. When he wakes hours later, he remembers nothing but the feeling that _ someone _ had been there with him on the wall. When he says as much to Phoebe later, she shakes her head and reminds him that he’d blasted her onto the ship, refusing to let her stay.

Still, the feeling remains, but Papalymo shakes it off before turning to look at Yda, who gives him a soft smile when he comments that his illusion has fallen while he was unconscious. He watches as she takes a deep breath before turning to confess to Phoebe, introducing herself finally, as Lyse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Shiwah, who guessed this. :)
> 
> Papalymo might not be the FIRST person people typically think 'Oh man, if I could save anyone, who would it be?' but he's the Scion I need darnit.


	10. Rak'Tika - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so late with this chapter, forgive meeeee.

_ “Phe,”  _ she hears a teasing voice upon entering her room. 

She’s half covered in dust from the walk back from Il Mheg, and dying for a bath to scrub the remnants of blood that remained after her battle with Titania. She’d scrubbed herself down in a stream they’d passed along the way back, but the waters had been chilly enough to prevent her from doing much more than getting the worst of it off.

Blearily looking around the room she spies Hades leaning against the table in the center of the open room, idly snacking on a sandwich.

“The  _ Exarch _ brought you some food. I took the liberty of ensuring that they had not been poisoned in any way, it would be  _ such _ a shame if the Warrior of Light was felled by something as simple as poison after all.”

He’d certainly “tested” everything, given that her meal looks half-eaten. Jealous, possessive brat that he is, he doesn’t even try to look ashamed. He  _ knows _ he has nothing to worry about between her and the Exarch, but it won’t stop him from teasing her about the silly crush the Miqo’te is seeming to have on her any less.

“Thank you, Darling, I was definitely worried that G’raha Tia would be the one to try and poison me.”

Sighing, she slowly crosses the room, before all but falling into the chair closest to her husband. Crossing her arms to use as a pillow, she turns tired eyes toward her him. His own golden eyes narrow briefly at her in return, and she doesn’t miss the quick scan he gives her from top to bottom before with a snap of his fingers the meal is refreshed, now featuring an item or two that it hadn’t before.

“Pomegranates?” she asks, just able to see the fruit from her position. Hesitating for a moment before sitting up to pluck a few of the juicy seeds from its split-open flesh. Her favorite, but one that could hardly be found in Eorzea, and she hadn’t spotted the type of subtropical climates they preferred to grow in here on the First.

Hand waving in dismissal, Hades replies, “There are a few trees that remain on one of the other shards. I mayhap plundered a few of the fruits when I was there last.”

“A  _ few _ ?” she asks, but continues to enjoy the sweet tartness.

“Alright, so I may have divested the trees in their entirety. If you are concerned about the theft I can return them to their rightful owner,” he says, a hand reaching for the fruit.

“Try it and I  _ will _ bite you, and not in the way you prefer,” she says, glaring up at him. 

Exhausted or not, she is sure she can find the strength to fend him off long enough to finish the fruit first.

“Very well, but give it to me. I can’t stand to look at you heathenly picking at it any longer,” he replies with a smirk, before moving to sit on the chair next to her. 

Hades divests himself of his gloves before reaching for a nearby spoon to begin removing the seeds for her, putting small piles on the plate in front of her.

His taking the time to do the manual labor isn’t lost on her. He could certainly snap his fingers, or wave a hand and have the seeds removed magically, there is something about taking the effort to do things for each other without the aid of aether that has always meant just a little more.

“You’re tired,” he says a while later, having been seemingly content to just watch her devour her way through the fruit. 

Reaching over, his thumb runs across her lower lip, brushing a lingering drop of pomegranate juice across it, before leaning in to kiss the taste from her lips. Soft, slow, without the intent to entice. 

She smiles back at him, leaning into the hand he’s moved to cup her face with.

“I did fight a primal, consume a not-insignificant amount of light aether, and  _ walk _ back from Il Mheg,” she says with a mild glare, pulling back and reaching for a sandwich.

Hades, of course, ignored the implication that he could have teleported her back but chose not to, “Tis true, however, I had expected the light to replenish you, not drain you further. How are you feeling, aside from tired?”

“Not the greatest,” she replies, pausing to consider. “The light from the two Wardens felt different from the light that the Inn patients had. Darker, maybe?” she finishes, struggling to find the right words, “I’m not just tired, I feel drained. Sluggish.”

“ _ That _ is concerning,” Hades responds, looking her over again. She can guess he’s not looking at  _ her _ so much as at her aether when he frowns.

“It is immeasurably frustrating that I can not just look through the bond. Your soul  _ seems _ well enough at the moment, but you’re right in that something does appear to be off.”

“I know,” she says after finishing her meal. Standing and sidestepping to drape herself over Hades, contenting herself in the warmth and comfort of being close to him even as he huffs and turns to face her, carefully ensuring not to dislodge her.

“You need to rest,” he chastises, reaching down to lift her up. One arm under her legs, other cradling her close. If only Garlemald could see their precious former Emperor now, deigning to carry the Warrior of Light to bed.

“I do,” she says, rubbing her nose along the side of his neck, inhaling the smell of cedar and machine oil that always seems to cling to him, no matter what life he was living, while wrapping her arms around his neck, already half asleep.

Her linkpearl chimes a moment later.

“I think not,” Hades says, nudging her to free the arm around her waist before reaching over to pluck it from her ear. When she frowns and attempts to reach for it, the shifting weight nearly sends her to the floor before Hades drops it and wraps the arm back around her.

“But what if it’s an emergency?” She asks, tired eyes watching the device as Hades nonchalantly steps on it as he continues in the direction of her bed.

“Then they know where to find your rooms, and I can decide if it truly is an “emergency”. There are no alarms going off, tis likely that one of your friends is merely bored.”

“You’re to be guard dog then?” she replies, sighing contentedly when Hades lays her down on the bed, legs draping over the edge as he unbuckles her boots, carefully placing one leg and then the other onto the bed as he finishes, nimble fingers working on removing her gun and Aetherotransformer next.

When the linkpearl chimes again, she sighs, “I really should answer that,” one arm flopping uselessly in its direction on the floor.

“Why, so you can fall asleep in the midst of whatever inane thing they need? Can you not silence it?” Hades asks, walking over to pluck it from the ground, fiddling with the device.

“There’s supposed to be a mute button,” she begins, pausing to yawn, “on the side, but mine never works.”

Her eyes, only just open, watch him stuff it into one of the various pockets of his robes, still chiming even from within.

“That is ridiculous. You are their vaunted Warrior of Light, I’d expect them to have repaired ill working items by now.”

She is pretty sure she mumbles something about ‘never having the time,’ before she gives in to the siren call of sleep.

\--------------------------------------

Sometime later, she’s awoken to a loud ‘ _ crunch _ ’ and the sound of a foot furiously stomping repeatedly onto the stone floor. When she hears a triumphant ‘Hah!’ she opens her eyes to see Hades grinning down at the floor.

A small laugh escapes her at the sight. She has seen that expression a thousand times over the millennia. Before the Sundering, she’d seen it whenever he’d solved a particularly difficult issue on the Convocation. Now,the smug grin on his face is one she often sees when he’s playing one of his roles as emperor, and is bragging to the Warrior of Light about how he’s just crushed their dreams.

The irony that he  _ has _ crushed something of hers isn’t entirely lost on her, but when he sends a triumphant look over at her at her laugh, she considers reminding him that having lived for  _ so long _ , he probably could have simply  _ fixed _ it, but now doesn’t seem like the time. He’s so  _ satisfied _ .

Glancing over at the crushed pieces scattered about on the floor, she decides that’s a conversation for morning-Phoebe to deal with and closes her eyes.

\--------------------------------------

A muffled ‘Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo’ sound emitting from her garbage can awakens her next, followed by a quick  _ snap _ when Hades _ finally _ remembers that he’s a Sorcerer of Eld, and banishes the entire trash can somewhere, into a void..

“Do I want to know where that just went?” she asks groggily.

“No,” Hades replies curtly, rolling over from where he’s strayed on the bed next to her, enveloping her in his arms, legs wrapping around her own. Her very own Ultros.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll tell your Exarch that the cruel Ascian stalking you stole your linkpearl in the morning.”

“‘Kay.”

\-----------------------------------------

Hades is gone when she rouses for the final time, stretching out and frowning at the empty place in the bed next to her. She’s not exactly  _ rested _ , but what she can see of the window from her bed, it’s already mid-afternoon.

She’s unsurprised when she finds Hades already in the Exarch’s chambers, but she  _ is  _ surprised by his speech that follows, declaring he will remain with them for these next adventures. Despite his words in Il Mheg, she’d hardly expected him to remain, and his offers of olive branches leave even her caught off guard. It’s new territory for both of them, and it has her  _ worried _ . Elidibus is not a fool, even if the rest of the Ascians are more easily waylaid.

When Thancred turns to ask her about what she thinks his intentions are, all she can do is shrug. With Hades going ‘off book’ on this shard, she as ill informed as the others. Hades  _ has _ killed her before. She has nearly killed  _ him _ before. An alliance may be the one thing they hadn’t tried previously.

Still, it’s nice when Alphinaud plays to the idea that mayhap Hades is  _ not _ up to something, and Y’shtola hesitantly agreeing. Y’shtola’s eyes trace between Hades’ and her own, reminding Phoebe that she has not entirely forgotten that there is a link between the two of them. She sends the Miqo’te her best ‘I’m just the Warrior of Light, all I know how to do is fight, I don’t know anything’ look, and the mage’s flickering ear tells her she has not let her off the hook just yet.

“Phoebe,” the Exarch calls over to her, “Emet-Selch has informed me that your linkpearl has taken some damage during your journey? ...Somehow it ended up in my rooms?”

“..That’s right,” she begins, “last night it began malfunctioning, and our  _ guest _ ,” she stresses the word, glaring over at Hades for good measure, “decided to send ‘out for repairs’ to help me.”

She sends a prayer to whatever gods exist that none of them pause to consider why Hades had been with her in the first place, but damned Alisaie has a badly concealed grin on her face, and if she trips the elezen later in response, well, it was entirely on  _ accident _ .

The Exarch has such an honest expression on his face that she almost feels guilty before she remembers that he  _ could _ tell her at anytime who he truly is, but has chosen to continue his charade. Nevertheless, kindness has rarely failed her, and she sends him a small smile when he hands her a new linkpearl.

The Exarch fills them in on the request by Eulmore for him to visit, as well as the need to monitor the remaining Light Wardens, she can see where his information is leading them to, and she can’t help but be moderately annoyed by the necessity of them all splitting up once more. She has  _ just _ gotten them all back in one place, and now they’re all breaking off again.

The twins are off to the same lands she initially found them in, The Exarch joining Alphinaud for part of the journey. Minfilia, Thancred, Y’shtola… and Hades will join her for the trip to the Rak’tika Greatwood.

“Why are we always splitting up?” She asks after the plan of action is finalized. Alisaie laughs while Phoebe clings to both twins, teasing her about how embarrassing she’s getting in her old age.

Alphinaud releases a fond but long-suffering sigh, shaking his head as he contributes, “Really, Phoebe, ‘tis hardly the first time we’ve split up to cover more ground at once.”

“Yes, and as you recall the first time I left Alisaie behind, it was to provide a distraction, and she came back with battle scars.”

“Phoebe, you probably have more scars than any of us, I don’t think that is a valid argument,” Alisaie teases. 

Alphinaud has taken to sending pleading looks to Y’shtola, despite Phoebe’s attempts to draw the elezen closer. Not for the first time, she curses her small stature in this life when Y’shtola carefully begins extricating the twins from her grasp.

“You really  _ are  _ turning into quite the Mother Hen,” Y’shtola says laughing.

“I was left behind while  _ you all _ were traipsing about here on the First!” She cries in response, hands slowly reaching toward the twins once more. 

She pretends not to notice when they step further back and Thancred carefully positions Minfilia within her reach instead. She can see their game as it is, and instead of fighting it, gathers the tiny rogue to her, plopping her head on top of the blushing girl’s, pouting at the group as a whole.

“This is your Warrior of Light?” Hades asks, suddenly reminding everyone in the room of his presence, as he turns to look at the Exarch, “Best of luck to your plans then, I hardly think I’ll need to involve myself.”

The partially crystallized miqo’te’s posture stiffens, visible even through the layers of his robes.

“My mother-henning has never stopped me from defeating Ascians before, I hardly imagine it’ll prove to be a problem now,” she replies, scowling at Hades as best she can from her position. 

“ _ Children, _ ” Y’shtola calls, herding the twins and Thancred from the room who seems to have shrugged at Minfilia with a look of ‘what can I do?’, “ _ play nice _ , remember?”

“Fine,” Phoebe replies, staying behind, stubbornly holding onto the young Oracle and blatantly ignoring Hades, to hear the Exarch’s - _ G’raha Tia _ \- her mind helpfully insists, request to stop at a church on their way to Rak’tika. 

Said stop at the church after their leaving is brief, primarily a minor history lesson from Y’shtola about the ways of the Night’s Blessed, before they begin their trek into the massive forest. While they can not exactly stroll, what with Ran’jit unlikely to remain in Eulmore for long, the journey is more relaxed than the near-sprint to Il Mheg had been.

She takes the opportunity to catch up with Y’shtola and Thancred about their years on the First, enjoying the dappled light trickling through the trees, even as false as the light might be, it is a warm one that has her longing to climb a tree and nap in its shade. Hades had disappeared soon before they left, and she has no doubt that he is already here in one form or another, enjoying the nap she wishes she could have.

Or so she had thought, before he traipses up behind them, talking about the glory of Garlemald when they enter a wide opening of the forest, nary a building to be seen.

Phoebe has the urge to shove him into one of the nearby swamps when he replies to Minfilia that he is an observer, nothing more or less when she requests that he aid them in the fighting. While his comment that the light is taxing in him might sound like an excuse for the others, she can tell it’s not exactly the stroll through the woods for him as it is for them. 

She’d asked him about it after their visit to Eulmore, about just how it felt for him.

“It’s a feeling akin to having ‘Heavy’ cast on you. Everything takes more  _ work _ , but tis nothing I can’t handle.”

The other Ascians, he explained, likely would only be able to remain on the Shard for days at a time, experiencing what felt like an ever-worsening sunburn, in a way that would eventually leave them drained of much of their aether if they pushed it too long. While Hades likely would have claimed he was  _ stronger _ than the other Ascians if asked, in truth, it was that Hades was fortunate that he was not tempered and saturated in  _ dark _ like the other Ascians.

Be that as it may, being surrounded by such abundant aether, even one not as diametrically opposed as Light and Dark would’ve been hard on any of them before the sundering, and Death is not as far removed from Dark as Hades would like to think it was.

“Wait,” Y’shtola calls out as they approach the burnt-out remains of a village, “someone’s coming. Several someones. I cannot detect if our resident thaumaturge is with them, and they appear to be armed.”

A moment later, she can hear them approaching, and a Ronso bursts through the woods, calling for them to be surrounded. She’s not a  _ particular _ fan of being left in this position, but she raises her arms when the others do. 

She frowns when the Ronso calls them sin eaters. The escalating fear of the group surrounding them is bound to result in someone getting hurt.

She replies to the group’s demands to explain how sin eaters can talk with a hesitant ‘Kupo?’, hoping to defuse some of the tension, which naturally Thancred instead makes worse by making it clear that they will kill the group surrounding them if they have to.

She’s just able to make eye contact with Hades before the ass accuses her of  _ boring _ him, and he moves as if he means to vanish before Y’shtola’s head turns quickly toward the sound of someone else approaching.

“ _ Wait, _ ” they call out, and she knows that voice, “ _ enough. _ These are my friends, which I believe I have told you about.”

“Papa!” Phoebe calls out, practically bouncing in place when the mage runs toward their clearing. She’s not foolish enough to  _ move _ just yet, not when the group has only  _ just _ begun to lower their weapons.

“She’s a friend. They… all are, I believe,” Papalymo responds, eyes lingering on Hades.

Papalymo requests again that they all lower their weapons, and hesitantly, they do as he asks. Once they’re at ease, Papalymo shakes his head, and gives an annoyed but amused, “ _ fine _ ,” before Phoebe launches from her place, scooping up the lalafell and squeezing him to her.

“Master Papalymo?” The Ronso from before reaches toward the diminutive mage in her grip, ignoring Phoebe’s scowl and flattened ears.

“I’m,” he wheezes at her tightening grip, “fine, Runar. Let’s return to Slitherbough and I can explain.  _ Phe, _ ” he says, with emphasis on her name, “down please.”

He’s not even finished his sentence when Phoebe drops him, eyes wild as she looks between him and Hades, whose own eyes have closed themselves off. He waves a motioning hand at the group, universal symbol of ‘move along please’ heard well enough, and despite the scowl that Thancred sends his way, the group follows their wayward thaumaturge through the swamp and toward the place Papalymo has called home for the better part of five years.

“Tis good to see you  _ Papalymo _ ,” Y’shtola says, tail twitching agitatedly as she speaks, eyes not leaving the lalafell as they walk.

“And I, you. It feels like it has been  _ millennia _ ,” he replies, eyeing the Ascian walking among them, “since I have seen some of you.”

Y’shtola looks like she would have continued the conversation, but they’ve reached what can only be Slitherbough. The town is quaint, and if the situation had been any different, Phoebe likely would’ve contented herself with a long introduction to how the town came to be and it’s people.

As it is, Papalymo introduces them to the Night’s Blessed, explaining how they worship no gods, only the night. Runar, the ronso that had initially ordered for them to be surrounded greets them, but Y’shtola aggravatedly asks to talk to Papalymo away from prying ears, and Papalymo leads them to his cave.

“ _ Who are you, _ ” Y’shtola all but hisses out at the mage the moment they’re alone, Thancred instantly shifting to stand between Minfilia and Papalymo, but is looking over at Y’shtola in confusion.

“Y’shtola?” Thancred calls out, one hand beginning to reach for his gun.

“No!  _ Wait, _ ” Phoebe calls in response. 

“It’s not what you think, Y’shtola. I can explain,” Papalymo began, “it happened when I crossed between the Source and the First.”

‘ _ Phe, _ ’ he had called her. Nobody had called her Phe since before the Sundering, nobody but Hades. Even then only a handful of Amaurotines had used it, and she had to know.  _ Had _ to know if he was who she thought he was.

Though her aether sight will likely never be as accurate as Y’shtola’s, Phoebe blinks, her eyes shifting to see the aether of the figure in front of her. She would recognize the fire aspected aether of this person even if she had been drowning and half unconscious. He’d been her mentor after all, and she had suspected before, but it  _ couldn’t _ be…

Spinning to look at the man who had slowly shifted so that he was on Papalymo’s side of the room, “ _ Hades?” _ she asks, desperate for confirmation.

“Tis him, m’dear. Though I know not how.”

She thinks she can hear Thancred mumble something about “M’dear?”, but ignores him in favor of turning back to the lalafell.

Y’shtola is not entirely wrong, this is not Papalymo… or rather, not  _ just _ the Papalymo she had come to know so well.

“ _ Loghrif?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so the whole linkpearl smashy smashy scene may or may not have been based on an actual event that happened with my husband and a fire alarm.


	11. Rak'tika 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for this very, very long delay in updating. It's been a pretty crazy few months, but hopefully, now that that craziness has essentially become normal, I'll have the ability to write more again.

“ _ Loghrif?!” _ Y’shtola echos, repeating after Phoebe.

Immediately, the conjurer pulls her staff in front of her, Thancred moving to be in front of Minfilia, even as the girl peaks around him.

“No, wait - ‘Shtola, it’s not what it looks like! This isn’t like it was with you, Thancred,” Phoebe anxiously replies, spinning her back to Papalymo, and holding her hands out toward the rest of the group, “Papalymo has  _ always  _ been Loghrif, he just couldn’t remember… until now, I guess?”

She trails off, hesitantly looking at the Scions in front of her before sending a desperate plea to Hades, who merely shrugs at her in response. Desperation turns to a look of ‘Really, Darling?’ and Hades huffs before chiming in.

“Though I doubt you’ll believe it coming from me if you didn’t believe your own friend, your warrior is correct. Thancred,” Hades says, eyes concentrated on the Gunblade still leveled and pointing at Papalymo behind Phoebe, “I recall Phe told you about her and myself long ago? Y’shtola,” he adds, gaze shifting to her, “you must’ve already had some idea about the truth, else you would not have continued to needle away at us both.”

Y’shtola lowers her staff a tad, but doesn’t relax yet. “Be that as it may, it explains why we should trust you, but not why we should trust another Ascian.”

“I’m not an Ascian,” Papalymo replies from the back, firmly, before pushing his way past Phoebe, despite her attempts to keep him behind her.

“I am Loghrif, but I am also Papalymo, the same individual you’ve known for over a decade. Emet-Selch is why I survived on Baelsar’s Wall. In the aftermath, I drank a potion called ‘Lethe’ to forget about his contribution to the events, but from what I can tell, the potion lifted and mutated when I was pulled through from the Source by the Exarch. The result of which being, I was able to recall my former life, where I was known as Loghrif.”

“The Crystal Exarch inadvertently raised you to your position?”, Phoebe asks mouth slanted in confusion, grimacing down at the lalafell, “But only the Unsundered can do that.”

“That’s not quite the situation. I have merely regained my memories, and as such have a few more tricks up my sleeves.”

“But… your aether…” she trails off, peering between Papalymo and Hades. His aether is undeniably different from when she’d last seen him on the Source before G’raha Tia pulled him to the First. It was… settled now, if aether could be such a thing. For all the aether she’s seen of souls of departed friends and allies that had lived during Amaurot, their aether always appeared to be a swirling, jagged mess. Papalymo’s now however, appeared to still have those jagged edges that any sundered soul had, but it was otherwise a still deep lake, comparable to what she sees when she looks at Hades.

“Tis indeed not quite the same, m’dear. When Lahabrea, Elidibus, or myself ‘elevate’ a shard of a former Ancient, the consciousness, or soul they had previously is overwritten. In this case, ‘Papalymo’ would be gone, and you’d only have Loghrif. This seems to be more of a merging of the minds, though his aether is still far more comparable to ‘Papalymo’ than it is to ‘Loghrif’. Given that Papalymo’s soul is seven times rejoined to Loghrif’s, it’s likely that he always had the capability of further aetheric feats, but he was unaware of how to utilize them. With Loghrif’s memories, doing so should be negligible.”

“Quite,” Papalymo replies, eyes decided as he puts fully steps around Phoebe, reaching a hand for Thancred’s gunblade, “Thancred, I have no intention of harming you, nor your young charge, and even if I did, I would have done it while you were still circled by the Night’s Blessed back in the forest. I gain little and nothing by luring you into a cave and leaving myself surrounded by you all as I would surely find myself if I even considered harming her.”

Thancred hesitates for a minute, locking eyes with Y’shtola and missing Minfilia’s bright inquisitive eyes still peering around him. It isn’t until Y’shtola nods and lowers her staff that Thancred does, and she tries not to focus on the fact that neither of them had trusted her at her word.

“Can we… sit?” Phoebe asks, swallowing and looking at the divide between her friends - family, really. They’d aligned themselves to either side of Papalymo’s room, herself still in the middle, and the distance between them all has never felt as apparent as it does at this moment.

While taking a deep breath, she looks at everyone in the room before asking, “We’re all in agreement then that nobody is anybody’s enemy here?”

At their nods, she turns to Hades, sending her widest Miqo’te eyes at him, “Darling?”

“No,” he cuts her off, shutting her down instantly, “I explained the last two times for you, you can do it yourself this time, while I,” he says, settling into a corner, looking for all intents and purposes like an old man about to doze off during a family gathering, “take a nap.”

She sends a pouting sigh at him in response before turning back toward Y’shtola, “There’s a lot to explain,” she says, taking a deep breath and slouching down into her chair. At least this should be one of the last times she has to do this? There’ll be just Alphinaud, Urianger and Tataru left soon. “So the first thing you need to understand is that Emet-Selch is the same as the Ascians.” 

An hour of storytelling follows before she finishes her tale. While everyone else seems to be in differing stages of understanding, and Hades has long since dozed off in the corner, something still seems to be bothering Y’shtola.

“‘Shtola, I was going to look around the town, mayhap scout around the area. Why don’t you come with me?” she asks, but has grasped onto Y’shtola and is all but dragging her out of the room.

She releases her when they’re outside the cave, and Y’shtola arches an eyebrow at her, but soundlessly follows along anyway. She’s not quite sure how the conversation to come will go, especially with Y’shtola, and as they exit the narrow passage out of Slitherbough she focuses on analyzing the land around her.

It’s not until Phoebe is firing off a last shot at a Vampire Vine that she breaks the silence, unable to endure the weight of the words hanging between them any longer.

“I’m pretty sure I invented these,” she says, collecting some of their sap in the vials she keeps at her side.

“You’re pretty sure you invented walking trees? Why would you do such a thing? How even?”

“I think it was a challenge? The details are hazy, I don’t have all my memories from my first life, some are in the other fragments of my soul, but I recall something about Fandaniel and I joking about how they were the Protector but I was the Guardian, and I said something about how I wouldn’t even trust them to protect the trees, so I’d create something that could… and then I invented Treants. But they changed during the Doom. Became the cruel, dreadful things you see now, nothing like the gentle caretakers they’d been when I created them.”

“I can see it.” Y’shtola says, foggy gray eyes looking between a Vampire Vine further out and herself, “There’s the faintest hint of color at the center of their aether that bears the selfsame blue of your own. I’m not sure I would’ve noticed if you hadn’t said something.”

“My aether vision is still quite lacking compared to your own I see,” Phoebe says, before humming and standing up to continue along on their adventure.

She’s enjoying the relative tranquility of Rak’tika. It might be partially swamp and covered in giant beetles that are only slightly tempting to attempt to ride, but when the light flickers through the canopy of the massive trees overhead, there’s something peaceful about it.

Y’shtola seems content to quietly walk alongside her for now, occasionally contributing a burst of wind to her own gunshots. She heads toward a rock formation close to the town but remote enough that they are unlikely to encounter anyone on a simple stroll. A quick set of hops takes her to the top, and despite Y’shtola’s disapproving glance at the entire situation, she follows soon after.

She’s beginning to wonder if Y’shtola won’t take the opening she’s granted her when the miqo’te finally speaks.

“You knew him before?” she asks, and it’s clear that she isn’t referring to Hades, but of Papalymo.

“Yes. Very well. Loghrif was my mentor on paper, but much more so a father-figure to me in reality. While I was still new, he’d served on the Convocation of Amaurot long before they assigned me to its ranks. Loghrif was the one in charge of teaching me the maneuverings and rules, and I probably pestered him with inane questions far longer than others would have their mentors. As I’m sure would come no shock to you, I’ve never been skilled at separating my personal life from my career, and we formed a not dissimilar bond as the one we share here.”

“Are there others, like Papalymo?”

“Like… Papalymo? Oh. Ohhhh. Well. Yes,” she says reluctantly, not prepared for the question. It was foolish of her honestly, to not consider that Y’shtola might wonder if there were more people she knew that had once served on the Convocation, or had been alive during the Doom of their planet.

“Do you-” she asks hesitantly before she’s cut off.

“Not just yet,” Y’shtola says to her surprise, “but I wish to know just why you never told us about any of this before now. It’s been years Phoebe, even if I don’t include the years for me that passed here, I have known you for the better part of five years.” 

She sighs, procrastinating for a minute while she throws a small rock into the swamp before them, watching the ripples it causes, and causing a frog she’d nearly missed noticing, leap safely away, “Why I never told the Scions, or why I never told you?”

She hears an exasperated sigh from the woman next to her, and the uncharacteristically soft tone of her voice when she asks, “Why Alisaie? Why not Thancred, Papalymo, Alphinaud, or yes, even me? You told Alisaie, who you’ve known for less time.”

“Thancred knew some details before today. You heard Emet-Selch mention that he’d known about our relationship, and that extended to some information about my past. Urianger knows… something, but I have no idea to what extent. He may have been waiting for me to tell him, and it’s never felt like the right time.”

“Then why Alisaie?”

“It was easier,” she replies, gazing off into the distance and tracking the slow descent of a wayward leaf dancing through the sky as it falls before continuing, “Alisaie has never expected me to be anyone but who I am. After Bahamut, after everything in Doma, she places her trust in me. If I told Alisaie right now that I needed to go jump off a cliff and I promised her that everything would be fine, she would be the one right behind me. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even have time to explain everything would be fine, she’d already be halfway off the cliff.”

She shifts her focus to Y’shtola, unsurprised by the frown marring her face.

“So you told Alisaie because she’s rash?”

“No, I told Alisaie because she would implicitly believe me when I told her that despite Emet-Selch being an Ascian, and that although he may try to kill her, me, or both of us at a later point, that it would be for a good reason.”

“That kind of blind faith will hurt her someday,” Y’shtola says, and from her accusatory tone, Phoebe knows she’s taking this personally. 

Y’shtola’s right to be mad at her. As far as the Scions go, she had always been willing to lend an ear, but while the Scions are a group she is a member of, she’s not sure she’s ever been  _ part _ of the Scions.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll sure do my damndest to ensure it doesn’t. But it doesn’t change the fact that she trusts  _ me _ . Period. No questions asked. And it’s clear that while the rest of you trust me, it is not to the same extent that you trust each other.”

Phoebe sighs, blowing her bangs off her face momentarily, considering just how much she wants to tell Y’shtola before deciding to just lay all her cards on the table. 

“Do you know that despite everything that has happened, while you all trust me to lead you in a fight, none of you have ever asked me to lead anything else?” Her voice calm despite the frustration she’s releasing, “Alphinaud is barely an adult, and yet he leads the Scions.”

She waves her hands to say no when Y’shtola means to cut in, continuing, “I’m not saying I desire the role or that he is the wrong choice, but at the time you all literally looked to a teenager and never considered that I might be suitable for the role,” she’s struggling to reign in her feelings as she continues, ears flattening against her head, “No, all I am to you all is a weapon to point at things.”

“By the twelve Phoebe, if that’s what you think of us, then I think I understand just why you’ve never spoken up.” Y’shtola’s voice is apologetic, and softly frayed, “I’m sorry, I had thought it understood that you preferred not to be relied upon for diplomacy based on how infrequently you speak up.”

She tosses another pebble in frustration before she responds, harder than the previous time with the rage bubbling through her veins. As it speeds through the air in front of her, she flinches when she realizes just how far it has gone. She can practically hear Loghrif from millenia ago, reminding her that to be a  _ Guardian _ of Life, she needs to  _ listen _ as much as she  _ fights _ . ‘Your rage is a powerful tool in battle. However it will also take away your judgement. Stop.  _ Hear  _ what they are going to say.  _ Feel  _ through all your emotions.  _ Think  _ about what choice is best.’

Taking a deep breath and counting to ten before she imagines her temper exhaling with the breath she releases, she says, “I listen. I dislike speaking rashly. If there’s anything I have learned in the millennia of lives I have lived,” she pointedly reminds Y’shtola that though the miqo’te had believed she was the senior of the two of them, she is a child compared to Phoebe, “it’s that people ought to listen more. That, and you’d be surprised by how often someone will continue to offer their secrets with something as simple as an awkward silence.”

Y’shtola is contrite as she responds, “And you thought we wouldn’t listen to you. Not about this.”

“Honestly… for a long time, no. I didn’t even know if at the beginning if you would understand that I’m not just a tool to used. Yes, I have knowledge I can share, yes, I am… strong in the way other adventurers are not necessarily, but I am also... “ she pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words, “broken.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen how I can’t seem to say no when people genuinely ask for help, right?”

“Yes. It’s endearing how you always seem to take everything upon yourself and endlessly frustrating at other times.”

“I  _ can’t _ say no. Though many of us bent the rules, every member of the Convocation had some exception to their power. I  _ have  _ to help people.”

“Say you did not. What would occur?”

“...Have you heard about Emperor Solus’s wives?” Her words are dull, any remaining rage draining out of her as she remembers the story she is about to tell.

“I recall something about how he married twice, yes. A pair of sisters?”

“That is the story Garlemald tells, yes. The truth is more complicated. With every rejoining Hydaelyn grows weaker. This weakness is directly connected to my rebirths. The last time around… something went  _ wrong _ , Y’shtola. I was not born as one person, but two.”

“As I understood it from your explanation earlier, you and the others from Amaurot were all sundered into fourteen pieces. From your words however, I am taking it to mean that this is not the same.”

“No,” Phoebe replies, recoiling at the memories of just how poorly her lives previously had gone, curling into as small a ball as she can, staring into the gently flowing water as she continues,

“I was sundered into the fourteen pieces, yes, but beyond that, there are two halves of me are not meant to separate, and yet I was reborn as twin sisters. One sister was the half of me that is empathy, and the other sister was the part of me that is  _ rage _ .”

Standing and pacing back and forth along the rock they’ve been resting on, she continues, “That sister is responsible for the relentless need to fight you’ve seen in Zenos. Zenos is the great-grandson of the half of me that must constantly push myself to new strengths.  _ Regardless  _ of how it is done. That berserker half of me is why I can get up again and again and again after a death-blow, but it is also why someone as terrifying as Zenos exists.”

“Garlemald took advantage of your inability to say  _ no _ , didn’t they? Abused your trust?” Y’shtola asks, voice broken up as if afraid of the answer she’s about to receive.

“Yes,” Phoebe replies, “To Garlemald, I was the perfect wife. Strong. Unyielding. Relentless in battle. And so the Tribunes who found me pointed me at one battle after the next, and since they earnestly believed that Eorzeans posed a threat to the world, I was forced to help. Eventually I was passed into the same Legion as the one Solus was serving in. Solus had long ago found my other half. They were already married. He’d had no idea that I’d been split into two. Solus’s first son was her child.”

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story. One that is better told with Emet-Selch to contribute. Let me just say that after his first wife died, Solus married the half of me that was only rage, and Zenos’s Great-Grandfather was born. Zenos has none of the other half of me that has temperance. That reminder that while I must strengthen myself, I do it to  _ protect _ the lives of those who cannot fend for themselves, and stand up for them when others will not.”

“I understand then, your hesitance in trusting that others will not abuse your power. Let us make a pact then, you and I,” Y’shtola says, foggy silver eyes focusing directly on Phoebe, “that in the future I will endeavor to consult you more on the situation if you will endeavor to try to trust in us more. I hope that after all this time, you know that we would never abuse you such.”

“I can do that. I  _ will _ do that. You’re right, the Scions would never take advantage of me like Garlemald did. And for what it’s worth Y’shtola… I’m sorry.”

The apology is barely out of her mouth when she hears someone sprinting through the brush behind them.

“Anyone we know?” she whispers to Y’shtola, slowly crouching her way to the end of the rock, keeping low.

“No, however if I had to hazard a guess they are likely a member of the Night’s Blessed. They all have a similar touch of aether to them.”

“Looks like you’re right,” Phoebe says as they finally get into view. It appears to be one of their Scouts, heading straight for the entrance of the town, “I’ll see what’s going on,” she says as she nimbly hops off the rock and heads toward the cave entrance. A few moments later, she returns with Minfilia at her side to where she’d left Y’shtola.

“Well, it sounds like there’s a task for us. The Scout encountered Sin Eaters close to the village, and there’s a jade necklace to be found as well; it’s necessary for a funeral of sorts,” her grin turns mischievous as she adds, “Minfilia can fill us in on the way. Care to go hunting?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my betas and thanks to my hubby for helping me get through this one. You're the bessssssssst! <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Props to Starships for listening to my BUT WHAT IF HADES WAS A DOUBLE-AGENT? idea and somehow helping me make it work, receiving 1000 lines of outline, and betaing all my terrible tenses.
> 
> Props to Ko for lovingly receiving my frantic car msgs of BUT WHAT IF THIS? Making me playlists, and taking over as beta.
> 
> You both have ALL MY LOVE! <3
> 
> Hey! Do you read FFXIV fics (I know you do, you're reading this)? Join our Discord! https://discord.gg/GsPXrc5  
We're a gang of FFXIV readers/writers/artists/game players who are all incredibly supportive of each other and somehow both thirsty and wholesome! (I may or may not have made an Emet-Selch bot~~~ )


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